Evil Town
by elliott ashes
Summary: AU. Coalbird is a place where nothing ever seems to happen... until several high schoolers discover a strange power, and each of them has different plans for it. Het, shonenai, shojoai
1. 0: Prologue

Evil Town

Prologue

A/N: Okay, I have a long weekend, I forget what my homework is, and one of the strings on my guitar just broke. That means I have three days with nothing to do but write and watch my Buffy The Vampire Slayer DVDs. I'll start with writing. This is an AU story using Fruits Basket characters. I changed the last names of some characters, and they are the same ages as in the first volume of the manga (Tohru, Kyo, and Yuki are 15-16). The setting is the fictional town of Coalbird. This will contain het, shonen-ai (slash) and shojo-ai (femmeslash). The basic plot is that several high school students discover a strange power is at work it their town, and all try to use it in different ways. There is some violence, and the language in this is also quite strong, so if you don't like that you probably shouldn't read. Oddly enough, I never swear when I talk even though profanity doesn't bother me, and I thought it would help to emphasize the setting and keep the characters realistic. **If you want, just ask and I can email you a clean version.** I love reviews, both criticism and praise. The O.C.s will be better characterized and described in future chapters, this is a prologue so I tried to keep it kind of vague.

Story Categories: Drama, Romance, Fantasy, Action/Adventure, Angst, Humor (occasionally), Experimental, Dark (I'm not a big fan of Happyfic. But don't worry, this isn't dark in the "everyone-died-let's-cry-about-it" way. I could never kill off my beloved Furuba characters. And Kyo crying his eyes out for a whole story would just be too weird.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Fruits Basket or any characters from it. I make no money off this story, which is unfortunate because I really, really need some new shoelaces.

Inspiration: The band The Vines (The title comes from one of their songs), the movie Happy Endings, and the show Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Oh, and I copied the Steven King chapter dividing format because I liked it, so I guess he deserves a mention.

…

**1**

The evening air is pleasantly cool against Yuki Aizawa's skin. He walks quickly and purposely towards his destination, keeping all his senses alert for danger. Footsteps. He pauses and looks around him for the umpteenth time. He sees nothing but the white facades of houses, staring blankly at him, under the dark, star-studded sky. It must have been echoes of his own footfalls. Eventually he decides he was being paranoid, and continues on. He is wearing dark clothing, and not doing anything to make himself eye-catching, but he still feels oddly conspicuous. He follows the path he takes every day, but it feels odd, not right. Probably just because it's night. Going to school at night is bound to set off a red flag in his mind.

The building came into view, bright white and deserted. He allowed himself a sigh of relief. Everything was going according to plan. He climbed the grey steps, feeling the cold of the concrete through his shoes. He rests an arm on the handrail as he walks, knowing he could suddenly lose all his strength. When he reaches the top, he looks around himself one more time.

"I thought you'd never get here," says a voice.

"Haru," he states, his tone unreadable. Then he smiles. "You're early for once."

"That I am," responds the voice. A boy steps out of the shadows in the corner of the building where he had been concealed. He is young, maybe 15. He has white hair with black roots, and wears several silver earrings. He obviously hadn't seen the need of not being immediately obvious. "So, did you fulfill your end of the bargain, Yuki?"

"You really don't know me well at all, do you?" smirks Yuki, handing the younger boy a black backpack.

"No," says Haru. "I really don't. But I guess I'll have to trust you."

"Don't trust people so lightly, Haru," says Yuki.

_Cryptic much? _Thinks Haru as Yuki walks away. Haru begins a trek in the opposite direction away from the building, and the area is left apparently deserted.

**2**

Sunlight is streaming in through the open window, past the white curtains. Clothing lays strewn randomly across the floor of the room, so that one cannot even see that the floor is expensive hardwood. Beside the door, there is a collection of textbooks and binders, half falling out of a backpack made from red fabric that is starting to fray and tear. Posters are plastered on all four walls, displaying pictures of strangely dressed musicians, skateboarders performing impossible-looking stunts, and various pixilated profanities and inside jokes that had been printed off a school computer when some friends had skipped a particularly boring language arts class. Metal music is blaring from the sleek, circular CD player, and glowing red not-quite-rectangles almost touch, forming numbers indicating the device is also an alarm clock. A heap of pillows and blankets slowly rise and fall, betraying the fact that there is a person under them.

The scene is surrealistic chaos, yet calm and somehow right. The singer in the metal band keeps shouting, oblivious or not caring that no one is listening as he attacks the fundamental flaws in politics, society, and the media.

The scene is disturbed as a pillow is flung across the room, hitting the wall with a soft whumph. The heap of blankets is thrown to the floor as the sleeping person awakens and sits up suddenly. He checks the time on the clock and frantically throws himself onto the floor, landing awkwardly on his side. Standing up, he grabs a handful of clothes off the ground and opens the door, knocking over the backpack in the process, causing its contents to spill out and become another layer atop the mountain of clothes that had accumulated.

He checks his appearance in the bathroom mirror. He is wearing a baggy black t-shirt with the name of a band emblazoned on it in flaming letters, and rumpled cargo pants. The same things he wore yesterday. His longish orange hair is messy, but he knows it will not do any good to brush it. His big eyes, which are usually a reddish-orange anyway, are noticeably bloodshot. That's okay, everyone thinks he wears contacts anyway, he can claim that they have been irritating him. At least his face doesn't have any noticeable cuts or bruises on it, though he _is_ paler than usual and there are dark circles under his eyes. He knows he should probably stay home, but he is on the verge of failing and already skips way too often. He pulls off his shirt, and is hit by a numb sense of surprised upon seeing how bruised he is_. Looks like I'll have to at least skip gym,_ he thinks. They are doing a wrestling unit, and in his condition that would probably be too painful. Besides, it's just gym.

He changes into a long-sleeved red-and-black striped shirt and a pair of baggy dark jeans. He pulls a black t-shirt on over the long sleeved shirt, and dons a too-big grey hoodie over that. He manages to hide all his injuries, but not quite his slim build. He wishes he had time for a shower, but according to the clock that wish is in vain. So he sprays himself with body spray and wishes instead that he didn't accidentally buy the girl's kind again.

He finds some leftover Chinese food in the fridge, and quickly devours the chop suey. He stuffs his wallet into his pocket so that he can buy lunch at school. He unplugs an mp3 player from his computer and starts to listen to it as he brushes his teeth. Going back into his room, he haphazardly shoves the spilled contents of his backpack back in, picks up the bag, puts it on his shoulders, and leaves.

**3**

Some places never seem to change with time. The town of Coalbird is one such place. There is one elementary school, one junior high, and one high school, as well as a 7-11, a couple car washes, and a store that sells everything from food to televisions. Hardly any new residents have moved there since the 50s. Most of the residents are second or third generation immigrants. It's a small town, the type of place where the front-page stories in the paper are about the local kids hockey team. People rarely move away, and when they do they almost always come back within days, saying the big city is not for them. If a person stays away, it probably means they never fit in at Coalbird anyway, and life there goes on as always.

**4**

The bus tires screech slightly as it pulls to a stop outside the high school, a white, cube-shaped building with concrete steps leading up to the double-doors at the entrance. The sun is still glaringly bright, and a few fluffy white clouds float leisurely across the absurdly blue sky. As the boy steps off the vehicle along with the throng of other students, something catches his attention. That something is a group of students, gathered by the steps talking animatedly. "Yo! Hirozuka!" calls one of them.

The orange-haired boy gives a nonchalant wave, which is immediately returned by a few of the other students in the group. "What's going on?" he asks as he comes closer. His friends Ian, John, and Marcus are talking to some girls and a boy he recognizes as Cole Thunder. He doesn't usually associate with Thunder, but he knows him because… well, _everyone_ knows Cole. He's a guy who talks constantly, often bragging about how he was named after the town. He is the type of person people either love or hate instantly.

The orange-haired boy finds him annoying and didn't much like him.

But today, no one seems annoyed by him. Rather, they listen enthralled to what he is saying. He stops suddenly, seeing the orange-haired boy approaching. "I think I should go," he stammers, running off.

"Aw, Hirozuka? Why did you have to scare him off?" asks Ian.

"Yeah, what did you do to him?" inquires Marcus.

"How the hell should I know?" the boy mutters.

John moans. "Whatever. I'm sure Thunder was making it up anyway." He laughs. "Man, that stuff was fucking _insane_."

"Well? What _was _it?" asks the boy, anger creeping into his words and expression.

"Chill, Kyo," demands Marcus. His voice is calm, as it always is, but it holds an air of authority and control. He gestures to the girls. "I guess I should introduce you. Izzy, Sharla, this is Kyo Hirozuka."

"Hey, nice to meet you," says Kyo.

"You too," says Izzy. Sharla remains silent. Izzy has fluffy straight black hair, short for a girl, that sticks out in oddly random spikes and falls over her left eye. Her appearance is vaguely gothic and her eyes are dark and full of energy. Kyo takes an immediate liking to her. Sharla, on the other hand, has long purplish-red hair and is wearing aviator sunglasses. She is noticeably tall, yet seems like the quiet type. Kyo is not quite sure what to make of her.

"We should probably go," smiles Sharla, walking away.

"See ya," says Izzy, sprinting off after her.

Once the girls were out of hearing range, Ian complains, "Aw, man Kyo! You scaring away Thunder I can tolerate, but this… I tell you, you're risking our friendship."

"Shut up, Ian," says Kyo.

"Yeah, stop whining dude. Not cool," John adds.

"Hey, what smells like strawberries?" asks Ian suddenly.

_Dammit! Can't any of my wishes ever come true? Seriously, did I piss off my fairy godmother or something? _Kyo thinks. "Who cares," he says aloud. "What was Thunder saying anyway?" he asks Marcus, as he is the most serious of their group and most likely to actually answer the question.

"Well, he claimed that yesterday he was walking past the school for some sort of dance class," starts Marcus.

"Actually, his exact words were "gangsta dance class," interjects John.

Marcus continues. "Anyway, he saw Yuki Aizawa standing outside the school and decided to spy on him."

"Why?" asks Kyo.

"Probably because he's a sick freak with no life," responds Ian. "Besides, Yuki doesn't really talk to anyone much so no one knows that much about him. Who wouldn't want to know what he does when he's not at school? He's such a weird guy. Sorry, no offense Kyo."

"Why would I be offended? I can't stand him either."

"Oh. I just assumed the two of you would be friends, since you're both… you know, Japanese."

"And that means we have to be friends?" Spits Kyo, feeling hot anger rise in him. " He's a pretentious jerk. I hate his type."

"Chill out, I didn't mean anything by it!" defends Ian, holding up both hands in a placating gesture.

"You know, I'm just gonna go. I don't really care about what he said anymore," mutters Kyo, storming off.

"What's his damage?" raises John, perturbed.

"Who knows," sighs Marcus, exasperated. "He's gotten more and more difficult to talk to, and you know how he's always been the type to take the whole troubled teen thing too far."

"Hey, the smell of strawberries is gone!" exclaims Ian. He looks around to see that his friends have walked off without him. _Aww, crap, _he thought. _Now who's going to tell me what "pretentious" means? _

Inside the school, Marcus deposits his backpack in his locker and slams the door shut with a metallic clang. He stands leaning against the row of lockers, absentmindedly spinning a combination lock with his index finger. "Hey John?" he asks, spotting the other boy close by at his own locker.

"Yeah? What?"

"Do you think we should find Kyo and tell him about what that Thunder kid said?"

John snorted. "Come on, why bother? Why should we even believe there was a word of truth in that story?"

"Because I doubt the guy would make up a story about him going to "gangsta dance class" to earn popularity points. "

"Um, this is _Thunder _we're talking about. I mean, who knows? But can you honestly believe a story that involves a weird white-haired kid, a mysterious evil power, and Yuki Aizawa actually talking to someone?" He emphasizes random words in an extremely accurate imitation of Cole. "Damn, that Thunder kid could really use some counseling."

"He already _has _a counselor."

"Well, he needs a better one."

**5**

Her first day in a new town, at a whole new school. The girl feels a mix of excitement and fear at the thought. She is surprised at how many people she sees here, she'd heard it was a small town. A group of guys are talking excitedly, and occasionally one of them bursts out laughing. She decides against going to talk to them, they seem too outgoing for her, and she'd stick out and not know what to say. At the other end of the stairs, a tall girl with long black hair stands off silently to the side by herself, immediately catching her attention.

"Hello, I'm Tohru Honda. I'm new here," she says to the tall girl.

"I can tell," replies the black-haired girl. Tohru sees that she's older than herself, probably in her last year.

"Um… It's very nice to meet you!" exclaims Tohru.

"Thanks," says the girl. "Look, I have to go to class. We can talk later if you really want," she declares, starting to walk away.

"But, I don't even know your name!"

"Isuzu," the older girl answers, not even turning back.

Tohru checks her watch nervously. It is still about ten minutes before class starts. She digs into her coat pocket, closing her fingers around a folded piece of paper. She withdraws it, and looks it over… again.

"I see you've met Rin," says a soft voice from behind her. Tohru gasps, startled. The voice laughs. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you."

"No, it's okay, really," says Tohru, turning around and coming face to face with a boy her age. He's tall and has long silver-grey hair and amazingly beautiful grey eyes.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Yuki Aizawa," he says.

"I'm Tohru Honda. It's very nice to meet you," she says.

"So, I see you've met Rin."

"Rin?" the girl asks, looking bemused. "Oh, I was just talking to a girl named Isuzu."

Yuki laughs. "Yeah, that's her. Did she act weird?"

"Er, um… Why do you call her Rin?" replies the girl, obviously attempting to change the subject.

" Oh, sorry. I thought you spoke Japanese," apologizes Yuki.

"I do a little, but I'm not great at it. My dad spoke it, but not my mom. I took lessons on weekends for a while, but they weren't available in every town so eventually I just stopped. Ah, I'm talking too much, aren't I?"

"Not at all. It's good to talk to people when you're new here. I wish I would have talked more when I was new." He gets a far-off look in his eyes. Suddenly, he says " Anyway, Isuzu means a bell in Japanese, and Rin is the sound a bell makes. It's her nickname."

"Oh! That's cool."

"So, from what you said it sounds like you move a lot."

"Oh… yeah. I'm used to big cities, so this is a change for me. I only moved here because I have relatives here. Can you tell me what it's like? Living here, I mean. And going to school here. What are the people like?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. It's different for everyone I guess. I'm really not the person to be asking these sort of things. I'm not the most social guy."

"What do you mean? You've been really nice to me," says the girl.

"Thanks," he says. "You know-" he is cut off by the high-pitched sound of the school bell signaling the start of classes. As it ends, he continues. "I'm sure you'll do fine here. I can show you around if you want later."

"I'd like that," she says, and begins walking towards the building.

_Why did I have to go talk to her? _Yuki asks himself. _Now I've put her in danger too. Tohru Honda, it really would have been best if you had never come to this town._


	2. 1: Paper Chains

Evil Town

Chapter One

Paper Chains

A/N: I would like to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter, especially Mala Suerte. Check out her story A Possible Epilogue to Wolf's Rain, it's really good. It's my birthday tomorrow, so I'm happy. There's some random poetry at the start and end of this chapter, I wrote it this summer and just thought it fit in well. Please let me know if it's any good.

**x**

_It's always too much or just not enough_

_Hiding away and cutting you off_

_Couldn't breathe through the dust or see past the dark_

_I watched from above as this tore us apart_

_Like paper chains_

**1**

"Is she a new student? She looks sorta lost."

"Yeah, this doesn't look like her type of place."

The second voice laughs loudly, an odd contrast to they way it had spoken: quietly, but with a bite to it. "Izzy, thank you so much for being our official Stater-Of-The-Obvious."

""_Stater_-Of-The-Obvious?" Have you considered going into politics, Sharla?"

Sharla laughs sarcastically. "Just tell me, do you know who she is?"

"No! I already told you that."

"Okay. Wow, you're in a defensive mood."

"Her name is Tohru Honda," chimes a third voice. Isuzu Takahashi looks up from the paper she had been writing on and closes the blue binder that had been resting on her knees. She stands up, and at her full height she is extremely tall, and would so even without the high boots she is wearing. She slides the binder into a denim bag, which she then slings over her shoulder with nonchalant elegance. She is wearing black jeans and a plain long–sleeved black shirt, unlike Izzy and Sharla who are both wearing the shiny blue gym uniforms. They are standing in an alleyway between two segments of the school, hidden from view of the people in the schoolyard, unless they know where to look. In the schoolyard, several blue-clad students are grouped into a misshapen circle surrounding the gym teacher, mostly ignoring his extremely passionate speech on the joys of running laps.

Technically, students aren't allowed in the alley, but it is a convenient place to go if one wants to skip class but not lose marks for it, since if they left campus or went inside the building it would be caught on security camera. They will simply sign in with the gym teacher, and sneak off into the alley and spend the class time talking. They hadn't been caught yet. Of course, the teacher will notice if more then a few students go missing, and thus there has developed a sort of unofficial hierarchy of rights to the alleyway: only the "coolest" students are allowed here. Not cool as in popular, exactly, but the type of people who seem to give off an aura of untouchability.

Which is why Tohru Honda seems so out of place here, standing nervously off to the side, silent.

"Oh, hey Rin. I didn't see you there," says Sharla, her thin face lighting up with excitement, although it is obvious from her voice that she is trying – and failing – to sound indifferent.

"I've been here the whole time," says Isuzu, achieving what Sharla had failed to do.

Sharla laughs nervously. "Well, I know that _now_."

"How do you know her anyway, Rin?" Izzy asks Isuzu, saving Sharla from further embarrassment.

"Talked to her a few minutes ago. I'll probably talk to her again at break." With those words, Isuzu starts to walk away, her footfalls almost silent except for the slight rustling of the thick green grass that just recently started showing signs of frostbite.

"Hey, where are you going?" asks Sharla.

"Skipping class. Do you honestly expect me to do this stupid exercise? It's fucking pointless, and I'm not even going to bother _trying _to run around in these shoes," replies Isuzu. With those words, she leaves the alley and disappears behind one of the school's many white walls.

"Wow," says Izzy tonelessly after a long silence.

"What?" says Sharla.

"You were certainly trying hard."

"Huh? What's that mean?"

"You were pretty desperate to impress her. Care to enlighten me?"

"It's nothing. She's just… you know, she's really cool. Who doesn't want to impress her?"

Izzy sighs. "I get it. You want her as some sort of trophy friend."

Sharla opens her mouth to say something, and then closes it again. Finally she says quietly, "Did I really make that big a jerk of myself?"

"Nah, she pretty much ditched you before you got the chance to say anything too incriminating."

"Great," says Sharla, tone unreadable.

As they sit down on the ground, an awkward silence falls over them, which is broken by Izzy minutes later. "Hey, I think she dropped something." She gestures towards a piece of paper caught diagonally between a few pieces of grass.

Sharla thoughtfully runs her fingers through the blades as though she is petting an animal, before closing her thumb and middle finger around the page and picking it up with veneration.

"So? What is it?" asks Izzy impatiently.

"I… really have no idea. Like, maybe some weird art project? Here, you take a look."

Izzy grabs the sheet. As her eyes scan it, the colour seems to drain from her face. "I need to go find her," she mutters, before walking off at a fast pace, in the same direction Isuzu had.

Sharla rolls her eyes. If it had been anyone other than Izzy, she would have been worried, but Sharla had known her long enough to have gotten used to her friend's weird behavior.

_Well, now that everyone has officially deserted me, _she thinks, _I might as well go and find out what _she _is doing here. _And she walks over to Turo, or whatever her name was.

**2**

The chatter of students washes over the room in a wave as they rush to get the seats next to their friends. Marcus Ling notices the only one who doesn't seem caught up in the race is Yuki Aizawa, who has chosen a seat by himself in the corner of the room, next to a window. A few sharp rays of sunlight fall on his pale skin. The noises of the highway outside – cars rapidly passing are visible through the window, past a chain link fence that surrounds the school grounds – are softened as they pass through the walls of the school. He's looking out at the scene, through the glass panes with fierce concentration in his dark eyes. The way he is sitting so still is kind of freaking Marcus out. And in a corner all by himself yet, talk about emo.

Marcus remembers how, when he had gone into junior high school, he had tried to befriend Yuki. He noticed how no one ever talked to the other boy or even seemed to mention him. Having been home-schooled all his life prior to this, Marcus hadn't really known any other students and had been anxious they would treat him the same as Aizawa. There were only a handful of Asians in the town, much less the school, and being Chinese, Marcus knew he stood out. He had decided to try and befriend Yuki, but after a few failed attempts to converse with him, Marcus realized why the kid was so unpopular: Although his dyed hair might indicate him as a rebel, he was stuck-up and antisocial. Then Marcus had met Ian, John, and Kyo, and they had been kind to him. Sure, Ian could be an idiot and Kyo could be a little melodramatic, but for the most part they were interesting, fun people. Yuki Aizawa has been the last thing on Marcus Ling's mind ever since then.

Until today. All this talk about him is bringing up old memories and insecurities, or perhaps just a renewed sense of pity for the boy. And Marcus finds himself taking a seat beside him, despite his common sense demanding to know what the hell he's doing.

He drums his fingers against the wood of the desk, to the tune of a song he heard on the radio this morning – he can't quite remember what it was called, but it's some pop punk melody. Not his favorite type of music, but the kind that gets stuck in his head. "So," he begins, turning to the student seated beside him, "What's up?"

Yuki looks up, startled. "Oh," he says, seeing who is speaking to him. He appears to think for a long moment, gazing at his thin pale hands clasped on his desk as he does so. "Nothing much," he finally concludes.

Marcus laughs at his awkwardness, and Yuki only stares questioningly. "It's nothing," Marcus attempts to explain. "You just took a long time to answer, that's all."

"Is there something you want to talk about?" asks Yuki. "A lot of people have wanted to talk to me today," he explains, noting Marcus' surprise.

"Nothing in particular, really," Marcus says in what he attempts to be a casual manner. Something about this kid never fails to creep him out. "How was your… weekend?"

Yuki shrugs. "Pleasant, I suppose."

"That's good. What did you do?" asks Marcus, suddenly realizing how it sounds like he's interrogating the guy.

"I did homework." _That's his idea of a pleasant weekend? See? He is NOT normal. _"I also met with some friends."

"From school?" inquires Marcus, genuinely interested.

"No, actually. Now, if you would be so kind as to excuse me from this conversation, I have to take notes on what the teacher is saying."

"You're excused," Marcus mutters. He turns his attention to the teacher, a big man with a shock of white hair and protruding eyes that can't help but remind Marcus of the aliens in a sci-fi show he sometimes watches after school.

"Yo! Bonjourno le Marcooshie!" says a loud voice. Marcus looks up to see Ian standing in the doorway, his trademark lopsided grin plastered on his face. Ian strolls into the room with a comical trot, and a few students erupt in laughter while others shake their heads. The teacher must be either new here or a slow learner, because he stands dumbfounded like he can't believe a student would dare to flout his authority. _Get used to it, _Marcus wants to say. The teacher finally manages to cough out in a raspy voice, "Find a desk." Ian does, one right next to Marcus.

"Hey Ian," he sighs, rather embarrassed by his friend's behavior. "You already missed half of class you know."

"I got lost in the halls," he shrugs.

"How on earth did you manage to do that? You've been going to school here three months!" exclaims Marcus.

"It's a complicated… uh, architectural design… thing," defends Ian. His eyes widen in surprise upon catching sight of Yuki and he says loudly, "Whoa! Marcus, are you trying to teach him to socialize?"

"Trying. It's… not really working," Marcus explains awkwardly. He hastily glances towards Aizawa to see if he's offended, but Yuki is staring at the teacher with the same intense focus he had previously directed to the highway outside the window. Or, Marcus contemplates for a fleeting moment; it looks as though he's looking at a spot right beside the teacher. No, there's nothing there. He's probably just looking from a different angle, Marcus corrects himself.

"By the way, have you seen Kyo? He didn't show up for class yet, I thought he was with you," inquires Marcus.

"Nope. Probably cutting class."

"I thought he said he wasn't going to do that anymore."

"He did, but… it's Kyo."

**3**

"Finally found you," says a voice. Isuzu looks up to see Erin "Izzy" Izokku standing over her. Isuzu is sitting on one of the school's dilapidated old lunch benches, writing something in a blue binder.

"Hm. Same binder as you had before. I'd be willing to bet you're even writing the same thing," states Izzy, looking over Isuzu's shoulder. Sure enough, Isuzu is making the same thick brushstrokes to form curvy foreign-looking letters. "Trackercode," Izzy asserts.

"And you would know this how?" asks Isuzu coldly.

"Trackers tend to be literate," says Izzy, voice cool.

"I sensed there was another one here," remarks Isuzu.

"That's 'cause there is. Actually, I should be the _only _one here. This is a small town, it doesn't need two of us."

"I don't track for this place, I just go to school here. Leftson is my territory." Leftson was the big city just beside Coalbird, a half-hour walk's distance from the school.

"If that's the case, why are you, for lack of a better word, screwing around in my domain?" Anger rises in Izzy's voice.

"Because," says Isuzu, hopping off the bench and landing easily on her feet, "if you haven't realized there's something evil here, you obviously aren't able to handle the task of being a Tracker." And Isuzu deliberately drops another piece of paper before walking away.

**4**

Kyo Hirozuka feels the anger and adrenaline coursing through his veins, spreading through his limbs and causing his fists to clench, ready for battle. It's anticipated, natural even, to him just like the paranoia that has begun to stalk him everywhere he goes. He'd spent the entire morning tracking Cole down. Missed two classes in the process, gotten a detention for interrupting a class, and a teacher treatened to call his father if she caught him running in the halls again. The last one was what had really set him off, not to mention scared the hell out of him. And now that Cole has recounted his story, Kyo is confident that he knows what to do. He is going to find Yuki Aizawa, and make him change his mind about putting everything Kyo's worked to attain at risk.

The bell for lunch rings, and as the classrooms empty and students fill the halls, his sharp eyes take everything in. There. Grey hair. Yuki's tall, easily to find in the crowd. Kyo walks up to him, quickly and purposefully. Yuki's talking to a girl, pretty with long brown hair, but Kyo doesn't take much notice of her. As Yuki catches sight of Kyo he freezes. "We need to talk," says Kyo. He raises a hand, presses it to Yuki's chest, and pushes him backwards with sudden brutal force. The grey-haired boy stumbles, and the back of his head connects with a wall. He closes his eyes tightly, but remains standing. "Now," adds Kyo.

"You know… you're the second person to do that to me today," says Yuki, laughing softly.

Unnerved and infuriated, Kyo explodes, "If you don't give up your stupid little plan right now… I- I don't know what I'll do. But I can't be held responsible for it. You're – you're messing with my fucking LIFE! Dammit, man! I mean, I don't even know what you're trying to accomplish-"

"Really?" asks Yuki, cutting him off. "You don't understand? I'd think you of all people would see how I would do what I had to in order to stay alive."

"No! I don't get why you'd think you're so much better than everyone else. I personally like myself a hell of a lot more than I like you."

Kyo is dimly that by now he's way past snapped. He doesn't care what's going to happen in the future, there is only now and no consequence could be worse that doing nothing. He doesn't even know who he is; or rather, he's just a feeling. Completely dehumanized in a fight against fate, he's become pure anger. It pulses within him like a second, stronger heart, dominating him. And he pulls his fist back, and swings.

Only to be suddenly tackled. He falls sideways, and his fist instead hits the wall, leaving a larger dent in the plaster beside the one smaller one from where Yuki's head had hit. Kyo tumbles to the ground and, disoriented, looks up to see who had tackled him. As his eyes go back into focus, he sees the brown-haired girl, standing over him. She's shaking and looks absolutely terrified. "L-leave him alone," she says, with surprising ferocity. "I don't know what he did to you, but it can't be worth this sort of punishment. You could have killed him!" Tears are shining in her eyes. "What's wrong with you?" Rather than sounding angry, her voice is suddenly concerned.

_Oh no… It must be happening! _"Evacuate the building!" Kyo shrieks, an unearthly demon-like noise escaping his lips.

"No. Not until you tell me what's going on," says a voice. Kyo turns, wild eyes dawning upon the girl with long purple hair, Shirly or Sharla or something. _Has she been here the entire time? Damn, she's inconspicuous. _Suddenly, he realizes an entire crowd has gathered… including Ian and Marcus, who are watching the spectacle with bemused interest. Kyo vaguely wonders where John is.

"I can't do that," says Kyo through clenched teeth. "Just get out of here. Now!"

"No," she says simply.

Kyo shuts his eyes tightly, sensing a severe migrane coming on. He can see little multicoloured lights spinning around, and he hears a whirring sound in his head. _My eyes must have changed. _He cracks one open slightly, and sees that the entire world seems to have become colours for which there are no words. Scientists probably call them Infrapurple and things like that. His human mind cannot comprehend these colours, and unable to bear to look at them, he closes his eyes again.

Through the dots he sees a shadow: vaguely humanoid, with stretched out fingers like long claws. The shadow gets closer and closer, raises one of those sickening claws, and swipes at him. A wave of nausea suddenly falls upon Kyo, his knees buckle, even the spots disappear and everything goes totally black.

**x**

_Two identities_

_Never meant to merge_

_Two identities_

_Forced to converge_

_And what will be left to be healed?_

_Deception, valor, or denial_

_Which is real and which is the shield?_

_I guess we'll know at the trial_

…

_**A/n: You're probably confused as to what is going on by now. Don't worry, the next chapter will explain a lot. **_


	3. 2: Dirty Business

Evil Town

Chapter Two

Dirty Business

A/N: Once again, I would like to give a big thank-you to Mala Suerte for reviewing the last chapter. Your input is very valuable to me. I apologize if there are any mistakes in this chapter; I wrote half of it in the middle of the night and the other half when I was running purely on caffeine. Also, please note that there is a reason Yuki seems so out of character in this chapter, and it is relevant to the plot and will soon be explained. I'm not going to simply alter his personality with no explanation. And sorry about all the brand names mentioned in this chapter, I usually hate it when books do that. But I was trying to keep this realistic (Well, as realistic as you _can _keep a fantasy genre fanfiction), and even the most anti-mainstream teenager occasionally thinks about brand names.

Disclaimer: The title of this chapter comes from the name of a song by The Dresden Dolls. Truly awesome band, and Dirty Business is one of my favorites of their songs. I highly recommend it.

**1**

Yuki stares wide-eyed at the orange-haired teen sprawled out on the white-tiled school floor in front of him. _Well, what do you know? _he thinks. _It actually worked. I'd better thank Haru. _Kyo is extremely pale, a sharp contrast to his… _energetic_ hair. His eyelids are tightly clamped shut, as though they are his last line of defense against the being that has been forced to fight him.

_Thanks, _Yuki tells the creature taking refuge within the dark corners of his own mind.

The creature sends a powerful jolt of energy through Yuki in response, almost causing him to double over. The boy isn't sure what to take that to mean, but then again, the creature probably isn't thrilled to the gills at being forced into slavery for him. _But it doesn't really matter what its opinions are, it's thanks to me that its even here, _rationalizes Yuki coldly.

Kyo twitches on the floor, and Yuki feels a sort of sick glee at witnessing his weakness. For a second he experiences an overwhelming desire to kick the helpless teen as hard as possible, but Yuki refrains and the impulse passes.

Tohru is cradling Kyo's head in her arms. "I- I'm not sure what's wrong with him!" she cries out. "I've never seen anything like this before, he must be really sick or something…"

Seeing Tohru, his new friend, his ally, like this, Yuki feels the need to appease her. _But how can she be worried about that guy? He's a complete jerk, and didn't she see what he tried to do to me? _But he says, "I'm sure he'll be fine, Tohru. He tends to recover quickly from things." _Whether anyone wants him to or not, _Yuki adds mentally.

"But… what's w-wrong with him?" she asks, desperately looking around herself.

"A lot of things, none of which are medical. He's probably just not feeling well," says Yuki. It is obviously a major understatement, as Kyo is appears to be catatonic and experiencing some sort of… attack. Yes, that's the perfect word.

"Students, please clear out. This is none of your business, either go into a classroom or outside to eat you lunch," orders a booming voice. The crowd thins out and a young woman with a no-nonsense tone approaches the unconscious teenager. She looks to be in her mid-twenties, with long blond hair tied back in a ponytail. "He'll have to rest for a while," she mutters.

Realizing they are the only conscious students still in the halls, Yuki beckons Tohru to come outside with him.

The chatter of students fills the schoolyard, but an awkward silence falls over the two of them as they take seats at a bench shaded by a large oak tree. They absentmindedly watch a game of basketball being played by some guys in their last year here. Yuki begins to eat his lunch, a Subway sandwich, with the same disinterest, almost like he is in a daze. He looks at Tohru and sees she is eating soba and sushi, traditional Japanese food. Yuki normally doesn't like that kind of thing, but this time he finds himself asking politely, "May I please have a piece of sushi?"

"Oh! Sure," says Tohru. "I brought extra, so help yourself." She hands him a pair of chopsticks and he takes them, clumsily maneuvering them to pick up a lump of sticky rice with egg on top – it's called Tamago or something, if he recalls correctly. At first he only plans to take one piece, but when he sees she really did bring extra - at least enough to feed three or four people – he helps himself to a few more.

"This is really good. Did you make it?" he asks.

"Yes, and thank you so much!" says Tohru.

"That's incredible!" says Yuki sincerely.

"Thanks," says Tohru distantly. She looks off into space and silence falls between them again.

"I'm sure he'll be okay,' says a voice. Tohru and Yuki both look up and realize it is Marcus Ling talking. He takes a seat – uninvited, Yuki notices – on the bench with them, opposite Tohru. "Kyo, I mean," he adds.

"Thank you, I'm- I'm glad. H-how do you know, though? Um, wow, I'm really stuttering a lot, uh, aren't I?" says Tohru with a nervous smile.

"That you are," says Marcus with a grin. "I just kind of know, he's been my friend for a long time and he's been through worse." He shoots Yuki a quick death-glare. "So, you're the new girl, right?"

"Er, yeah. I'm Tohru Honda."

"It's nice to meet you. Marcus Ling, I'm in Aizawa's science and math classes."

"Oh, that's cool," says Tohru.

He chuckles slightly. "No, not really. They're the advanced classes so I'm basically flunking them. I wouldn't have signed up, but the teachers practically forced me to. The logic was something like "Hey, you're Asian _and_ wear glasses? You _must _be smart. What? You want to be in regular classes? Don't be silly, you have so much potential!" So, what classes are you in, anyway?"

"Just the regular ones," Tohru blushes. "School's not really my thing. Would you like some sushi?"

"That's a nice offer, but I'm not really hungr - hey, is that Subway? Er, could I have that?" he requests sheepishly.

"Go ahead," grants Yuki, suddenly losing his appetite.

**2**

Kyo feels himself drift in and out of consciousness, his eyes squeezed tightly shut and his world engulfed in darkness throughout the entire ordeal. He's not sure what's going on in the world around him, and not sure he wants to know. Memories are interwoven with dreams into a confusing yet mesmerizing design, and he's not sure he wants to leave the security of the dreamscape. Reality has the tendency to suck majorly.

After much internal debating, he manages to convince himself to crack open an eye. When he does, the site he takes in is unfamiliar and cold. A white room, relatively small, and exceptionally sanitary-looking. He's in a bed with rough white sheets thrown over him, and there are more beds set out but from what he can tell, his is the only one occupied. Then again, there appear to be places in the room his eyes can't quite reach from the position he is in, and he doesn't want to shift around as his head hurts like hell.

A figure steps out of a corner and into Kyo's line of vision, confirming his suspicions. The orange-haired teen can't quite get his vision to focus –he keeps going cross-eyed and his perspectives overlap – but judging by the vague outline of the person, it seems to be Ian. He's a pretty short guy, with a shock of dirty-blond hair that is always sticking up like a cloud perched atop his head. "Hey, he's awake!" observes the guy – yeah, definitely Ian.

John follows suit and steps out of the unseen place. "Yo, Hirozuka. You feeling okay?" he inquires.

"Not great, but I'll manage," says Kyo. He tries to grin, but the room seems to be pulsating and he winces against his will. "Uh, is there any way I could get some migraine meds?"

"Dude, I'm sorry but I don't have any on me and I sorta doubt the teachers would give us any. You know how fucking strict they are about that stuff," says John with an apologetic smile.

"_Dammit_! Well, I guess I'll get some at home then. I mean, or is lunch break over?" asks Kyo. Being out of it has left him rather disoriented, and he can't quite place the time lapse. It feels really late, like the middle of the night, but that's ridiculous. Shit, this migraine is fucking exhausting.

Ian laughs a bit, and says, "Man. _School's _over. You've been passed out for like three hours."

"What?" exclaims Kyo. Are they kidding me? Dammit! Something occurs to him, and he adds, "So why haven't you guys left yet?"

"Well, we wanted to see how you were. Plus Ian had detention over some shit he pulled, so he had to stay anyway for that. And me…" he trails off and a look of… rage? That or something else equally intense fills his eyes. "Well, I just didn't feel like going straight home," he concludes.

Kyo knows better than to press the issue, being able to relate. "So, should I just _leave _now?" Seriously, what's he supposed to do? There doesn't even seem to be a school nurse or anything of that nature around.

"You probably have to fill out some forms and crap, since you passed out and all. Dude, what _was _that?" says Ian.

"Huh? What do you mean?" asks Kyo.

"I mean," clarifies Ian, "why did you pass out for three hours? Do you have like a condition or something?"

"What? No!" says Kyo, bemused. Then the memories start rushing back to him, things he'd seen flashes of in his dreams. And he cannot honestly answer Ian's question, so he just says, "I was probably just sleep deprived or something."

"It was the weirdest thing, man. You were all pissed off at Aizawa, and he said some stuff – I couldn't hear it, you know how quiet he talks, but it really must have bothered you 'cause you started yelling at him. So you pushed him against a wall, and then just passed out in the middle of the hall. People were pretty worried about you, but the teacher's refused to take questions. It was pretty damn frustrating for us, but we couldn't really do anything besides wait. And now… we've waited," concludes John.

So Yuki _had _gone through with his stupid, selfish plan. And it would appear he's succeeded. Not good. Really. Fucking. Not. Good.

"So what were you arguing about anyway?" pesters Ian.

Kyo sighs. "It's kinda a long story, but the gist of it is that he… he did something to me, just a total show of disrespect. I don't have to put up with his crap, and I wanted him to realize that."

His friends nod. "Well, I guess I can see why you were pissed at him. I wouldn't tolerate it either if he was doing stuff to me. But… dude, you were really intense about it," says John.

"Believe me. I wasn't any harder on him then he deserved." _In fact, _Kyo decides, _I should probably find him and finish what I left off. _

**3**

As it turns out, Kyo doesn't have to fill out any forms, as a visit to the school office confirms. Surprisingly, the school administrators don't even mention punishing him for fighting, they merely ask if he is feeling alright and suggest that he see a doctor. Kyo brushes off their concerns with an "Uh huh" and "Yeah, I will. Sure." In reality, he feels like crap and has no plans to meet with a physician any time soon. He's had enough experience with them to pinpoint them as just another group of people who want to ask him awkward questions and meddle in his life. Yeah, no thank you.

_So, _he thinks. _This is how they treat the losers here._

After sending John and Ian to walk ahead of him – he doesn't feel much up to conversation due to his headache and the questions his friends are bound to ask that he knows he can't answer – Kyo dons his backpack and starts to walk home. He absentmindedly notes the slight scraping sound his orange Converse shoes make each time they come down upon the pavement. He puts on his headphones and turns his mp3 player on and up to almost maximum volume, attempting to drown his migraine out with the raging chants and fast guitar rifts of some songage. His plan backfires, and his brain just throbs along with the beat. Yet somehow he doesn't want to turn off the music, maybe just because it feels so refreshing to hear his anger translated from abstract thought to almost-tangible words.

It is during these musings that he feels something long and metal entangle itself with his legs. He stumbles at the unexpected – trap? – and trips. Thanks to his martial arts training, his reflexes are attuned enough for him to catch himself, albeit clumsily. He scrapes both palms against the concrete in the process, and he examines them to see some bits of grit embedded in them and a few drops of blood already starting to slip through the cuts in his skin. Thankfully not a serious injury, but fuck if it doesn't hurt.

His headphones have yanked free of his music device but remain on his head, the cord dangling uselessly in the air. What the hell _was _that thing he'd tripped over anyway? He turns around and examines the ground around where the accident, or whatever it was, had happened. There are no large metal things anywhere in the vicinity. In fact, there's not much of anything in the vicinity, save for the bone-white pavement of the sidewalk and the flecks of dirt and sand that seems to perpetually spread themselves over the city.

His eyes fall upon a single piece of paper, torn and grimy, strewn haphazardly in the middle of his path, like someone walking home from school had accidentally dropped it a while ago. But Kyo doesn't allow himself the luxury of assuming that. His thoughts come to an entirely different conclusion, one that bestows him with a feeling of increasing anxiety.

He exhales a string of profanities, barely audible but extremely vulgar. He bends down and reached out with a shaking hand to turn over the paper, since the face-up side is blank. As soon as he touches it, the sheet starts to writhe like a tortured creature. It sends out what appear to be black sparks, like thick, shiny black ashes. Those ashes cling to his hand where he touched the page, and the spot across his skin like an ink stain on paper, forming patterns like a tattoo. A weird, full body tattoo that looks vaguely like the patterns on doilies.

He recognizes it as not simply a pattern, but letters. Spelling out the word _trapped. _

A Tracker's trap.

Kyo attempts half-heartedly to escape, slowly and carefully reaching out a hand in front of him. Sure enough, the moment it is a few feet ahead of his body, a small flash of white light darts out from the ground and up in front of him, wriggling like a demented lizard as it moves. It connects with his hand before he can pull it away, and it has a cold metallic feel to it. He continues to test out his boundaries using this method for a moment, coming to the conclusion that he seems to be in a spherical prison with enough space to stand or to sit crossed-legged, but not enough space to pace around. Well, that just takes to whole point out of being captive, doesn't it?

"I doubt you'll listen to this, knowing how hardheaded you Trackers tend to be, but I know you're there and I think you should know: I'm not the one you're looking for," he says, apparently to the air or the empty road or the blank stares of the facades of houses. There is no response, but it's not like he expected one. At least, not a civil one.

A shape – humanoid, but it's moving too fast and it's too dark for Kyo to be certain of much else - steps into view, as though the person had been concealed by a fold in the air. The figure circles him from a distance, still moving at the same frantic pace, but with movements lithe and fluid.

The person is wearing a black toque and dark, baggy clothing, Kyo notices upon squinting. He can't see any weapons, but he knows from experience that the Tracker is probably armed to the teeth. Sure enough, as the person comes closer it – he? - slides a hand into a pocket in his black jeans. Kyo can't help but feel rather awed by the haunting beauty of the way his form blends against the grey sky like some macabre shadow.

His eyes meet with those of his assailant, and he is shocked at the recognition that sparks between them.

"Woah. Kyo?" says a surprised voice, familiar from just earlier that day.

**4**

"Did it work?" inquires Haru in his usual indifferent, distant monotone. Sort of like the way Marcus talks sometimes, ponders Yuki. Marcus. The thought of that creep makes his blood run cold. He really does not want to think about anything related to Marcus Ling right now.

"Perfectly," says Yuki. "Thanks."

"You don't seem very happy," observes Haru. The two are meeting in the usual place, the hidden alley of Yuki's school, which will be Haru's school too next year

_Well, why would I be? That stupid Ling just ruined my day, hasn't he? I should really get revenge on him. Show Tohru that he's weak and worthless, just like that Hirozuka. He's an enemy. If I leave him alone he'll come and get me. I can't allow him to get me. I have to stop him. _"That has nothing to do with this, Haru. It's just something that happened at school." After they had finished eating lunch, Marcus had offered Tohru a tour of the school grounds. She had accepted and Yuki had tagged along, feeling like – no, _knowing _he was a third wheel.

"Are you sure, Yuki?" Haru's strange, beautiful eyes are filled with concern.

"Yes, I'm sure," Yuki snaps.

"You know, you should let me take his spirit out of you now, Yuki. You've scared Kyo, he won't bother you again," Haru murmurs soothingly. He reaches out a jewelry-covered hand and runs it through Yuki's long silvery hair.

Yuki draws back and hisses, "No. I need it – I need him. I haven't got my revenge yet. Not yet."

"Yuki, he's hurting you. This isn't who you are, he's taking over. If you don't let me remove him, you could change permanently."

"What would you know? Why should you even care?" demands Yuki bitingly.

"Because I love you, and I care about you. Don't change. Please," Haru pleads, his eyes full of pain.

"You're jealous! You don't want me to get stronger.'

"Yuki…"

"No! I'm leaving. I don't need you," he spits. "I don't want you, and I don't want your love either." Haru stares after him as he runs off into the dusk, too fast for the younger teen to follow except with his eyes, and soon they cannot go where he is either.

**5**

"Izzy, right?" says Kyo as means of greeting.

"Yeah," she responds, taking her toque off and raking a hand through her wild hair before jamming both hat and hands into the pockets of her too-big black skater hoodie. "Kyo. Whoa, I was really not expecting this," she comments.

"Tell me about it," mutters Kyo. _You'd think I'd be able to go at least one day without being attacked by both a demon and a demon slayer. _

"Though looking back on it, it does explain a lot of things," continues Izzy, and Kyo realizes she's talking to herself rather than him. "So," She says, this time clearly addressing him, "I'm pretty unclear as to how I'm supposed to proceed when something like this happens. Man, am I supposed to fight you or am I considered biased, like in those court cases, or what?" she asks conversationally. Her wide, eyeliner lined… well, _eyes_ examine him quizzically. She seems to be partially joking… which means she's partly serious, deduces Kyo. Then again, it is a valid question, although he can't think of a stranger way possible of putting it.

"Look, you don't actually need to fight me," he attempts to explain. "I'm not your enemy."

"But you admit… you _are _a demon," she points out.

"Hey, it's not like that was my choice! And besides, I'm only part demon. Like, a really small part. Not really enough to have much effect on my behaviors and stuff, or even to give me special powers or anything cool like that. I'm really a pretty normal guy."

"Wow," says Izzy, and she laughs.

"What's so funny?" demands Kyo.

"You are just so… desperate."

"Desperate? What?"

"Yeah. To be, you know, normal. You don't even want to explain in any detail about your demonicity. Is that a word, anyway? Whateve', that's besides the point. But yet you go around acting all aloof and picking fights and collapsing in hallways. That's not exactly normal human behavior, and I doubt it's normal for demons either. Then again, I'm new to this so I wouldn't know."

"Is this little conversation going anywhere?" raises Kyo. He knows it's rude, but she still hasn't released him from the little ball she's got him trapped in, and that's hardly proper etiquette either.

"No, not really. But wait, do you have like a permit or something that says you're allowed to be a demon, and be free and stuff?"

"Not an actual permit, but I _am_ allowed to exist. As I said, I'm just a really small part demon, so it basically doesn't affect me. I'm a normal – sorry, forgot you didn't like that word – person."

"Well then, how come you got caught in my trap?"

"Because… well, it's a long story."

"Tell it. We've got time."

_Maybe _you _do, but I actually have a life, _thinks Kyo spitefully. But he sits down on the hard pavement, folds his legs into a pretzel-shape, and begins speaking. "Sometimes, like when I get really angry or really any strong emotion, I turn into this _thing. _My demon form. When that happens, it kind of stays in me for a while, like even after I turn back. It's like… it's a damn curse. I can't act completely like myself until it wears off, it just takes hold of me. Like it did today and I'm guessing your demon trap picked up on it, 'cause they've never done anything to me before and I've seen 'em around campus. You might want to try better concealing them in the future."

"Thanks for the tip," she says, and he can't tell if she's being sarcastic. She examines him like a specimen under a microscope. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"You sure? 'Cause you look like crap."

"Thanks," he responds disinterestedly.

She laughs. "No, I mean… You're really pale and stuff. Are you sick or something?"

"No, it's just that I was attacked –" He is cut off mid-sentence by a hair-raising shriek. He wheels around to see that red-haired girl. _Damn, she's everywhere! Is she fucking stalking me? _

"Sharla… uh, hi," acknowledges Izzy.

"What the hell is going on?" asks Sharla, looking terrified. She raises a shaking hand to point at Kyo, who realizes he still has the weird magic tattoo thing on him.

"Well, you see Kyo is a demon. Sorry, part demon," begins Izzy.

"What? You can't tell her that!" bursts Kyo.

"Do part-demons know any memory erasing spells?" Izzy inquires of him in a harsh whisper. Kyo shakes his head. "Do you want to get a full body tattoo in that pattern before school tomorrow?" Again, he shakes his head. "Then, since you don't have a better idea, we tell her. Besides, she's my best friend. I know her, she's not the type to rat us out to any evil creatures."

"Fine," Kyo grudgingly concedes.

"Good." Turning to Sharla and bringing her voice back to normal volume, Izzy says, "Okay, this is sort of complicated, but it's true. All of it. Just please listen and keep an open mind until I'm finished, okay?" Sharla nods, silently encouraging her friend to continue. "I'm a Tracker. It's sort of like the Slayer in _Buffy. _Basically, we have to track down demons and other supernatural things, like renegade spirits and dark mages. And then we either send them back to their world or get rid of them some other way."

"Like killing them for instance," Kyo chimes in acrimoniously. "For example, by locking them in magic circles and forcing them to listen to you talk for hours until they die of boredom."

"Oh yeah," Izzy apologizes, noticing Kyo is still imprisoned. "Um, can you wait a little while longer? I've never had to remove a spell before; I'll need to take a while to work out a solution. Anyway," she turns back to her friend without another word to Kyo. "There's one Tracker for each district, for lack of a better word. For a small town like this, there's just one. For a big city, there's usually several districts, since there's more people and therefore more demons and various other evil things. The Trackers communicate by writing notes to each other in their own special language, and then they just leave the notes around. They also write things in the language to cast spells, like the one Kyo has on him right now. That's what the paper on the ground is for, it has an imprisonment spell written on it. The spell is made to only affect demons so ordinary people are safe. Unless they have a lot of spiritual sense or are really in tune with their surroundings, they probably won't even notice the spells. Like when you see weird graffiti that doesn't make any sense, it could be something written in the language."

"So you're saying Hirozuka's evil?" says Sharla, voice even. Kyo can't believe she's just accepted all the things Izzy said, just like that. That is so not normal.

"No, I'm not evil. I just have really horrible luck," says Kyo through gritted teeth.

"Well, he claims he's not, but I have my doubts," says Izzy.

"Hey!" exclaims Kyo.

"Chill," she says, waving a hand dismissively. "I just find it hard to believe that one second you're trying to be my friend, and the next you're all malicious," she says to him.

'I just don't like being trapped! Is that too much to ask?"

Ignoring his remark, Izzy says to him, "Wait a minute, I think I know what's going on! The demon in you hates me, but the human part thinks I am just too cool for words."

"You are such a narcissist!" shouts Kyo.

"True, but we'll test out my theory later and I bet it'll be true. Anyway, Trackers are generally discovered and trained from a young age. The spiritual sense tends to run in families. My grandfather was also a Tracker, so I got it from him."

"So… is that it?" queries Sharla timidly.

"Well, there's actually a lot more to it that that, but yeah, that's pretty much the basics," says Izzy.

"And, I'm supposed to believe this?" the other girl exclaims incredulously.

"Well… yeah," answers Izzy.

"Told you she wouldn't," mutters Kyo.

"No… it's not that. I mean… yeah, it _is _hard to believe. I've never even considered something like that _possible. _Never in my life," says Sharla, voice quiet.

"Are you sure?" asks Izzy calmly.

"Well… yes, I think so," says Sharla.

"But you must have the spiritual sense to a fairly high degree. Otherwise, you probably wouldn't have noticed the pattern on Kyo. You would have just walked right by, thinking it was the shadows deceiving you, and you wouldn't have given it a second thought. Since you have the sense, that's why I thought it would be okay to tell you this. You were bound to find out eventually anyway. Have you ever noticed anything, like, really weird. That just seemed impossible to explain?" says Izzy quietly.

_So that's her logic! _Kyo realizes. _She's more intelligent that I gave her credit for. _The thought makes him somehow relieved.

Sharla stays quiet for so long Kyo honestly doesn't expect her to respond. He starts to work on removing and restringing his shoelaces to get the twists out of them. The ends are kind of frayed, they must have been dragging for a while. Sharla finally says, "I'll have to think about that."

"Okay," concedes Izzy.

"So tell me," says Sharla conversationally. "If Kyo's not evil, what were you trying to catch?"

"I'm not quite sure," says Izzy, her tone suddenly grave. "There's something really evil in this town. I can feel it, and all the signs point to something about to happen – or already happening."

"So, those papers you're always dropping everywhere are supposed to catch it?" says Sharla.

"Right. Supposed to. Only…" She looks embarrassedly at her feet, examining her shiny black boots. "They haven't been very effective. I doubt they're going to suddenly start working now. I need a new strategy, because at this point I'm trying to fight something and I don't even know what it looks right. If it's not Kyo, I have no clue what – or who – it is."

"I know," says Kyo. The girls look to him with interest. "It's Yuki."


	4. 3: Dead Stars

Evil Town

Chapter Three

Dead Stars

A/N: I'm so sorry it took me so long to update, I've been really busy lately. I'll get back to updating regularly, I hope people are still reading after that long hiatus. I would like to thank Mala Suerte, T.I.B.E.-sway- and Musa Rox, I am very grateful for your advice and encouragement.

Chapter name comes from a song by Addicted2Fiction.

**1**

Bathed in the burnt orange glow of the streetlights, Yuki Aizawa tears his way down the deserted street. It's dark, far too late to be out on a school night, but that doesn't seem to matter. His concept of time has shifted dramatically, along with his priorities. Why should he care if he's tired the next day at school? If not for conflicts to bring to an end, revenge to wreak on everyone who had ever abused him and made him feel like shit, why would he even bother showing up tomorrow? All he wants to do is fight, run, and just generally push his body to the limits.

And he is definitely doing that now. His legs hit the pavement fast and hard, muscles searing and bones feeling like they're about to snap beneath him. His lungs burn with each gulp of air, and there's a weird sensation like his chest is about to collapse in. His arms hang forgotten at his side, making him flap around like some horrible parody of a child's doll.

But that doesn't matter either. All those sensations, all that awareness is distant, like his body is a separate entity from him. And what's wrong with that? Aren't there more benefits than downsides? All he has to worry about are pure physical limits, not mental or emotional or even social boundaries dictating what he can and can't do. If anyone objects, he can take 'em. If this body gets injured in the process it's no big deal, he can just take another one now that he's free.

_Those weren't my thoughts,_ Yuki thinks, shocked.

_Did you just realize that?_ the dark force taking over his mind mocks. _Like it or not, I'm going to avenge you. Think of it as my way of rewarding you for my freedom. _Once again, the demon engulfs his consciousness as their minds merge.

So Yuki runs on through the smoky night air, beneath the star studded sky. He spots a figure off in the distance and decides to test out his strength. He sprints over lawns, runs through the streets with no attention to his peripheral vision, only focusing on one goal; to catch that person. The figure is drawing nearer and nearer, and he now sees it is a young female, maybe in her mid teens.

Headlights shine bright in his eyes as a car comes hurtling towards him. He jumps as the vehicle swerves to avoid him but fails; airborne, his sneaker comes down on the hood of the car and he manages two clumsy steps on to the roof before the momentum and sheer speed causes him to topple off. He rolls off in a clumsy somersault and seems to hang in midair for a split second before connecting with the pavement, clothes and skin tearing on impact.

The driver emerges from his car, slamming the door behind him. He's breathing heavily, in a total panic with the knowledge of what he may have just done.

But as he frantically searches the area, there's nothing to be found.

He reenters his automobile and simply sits and waits allows his heart rate to return to normal. When it does, he presses down the gas pedal and takes the wheel in his shaking white hands.

And the stars in the sky passively gaze down as the scene unfolds.

**2**

"Yo, John!" calls Ian as he enters the classroom, late as usual. It's an art class, with students from the regular program and advanced program all mixed together and a lenient teacher who didn't mind them talking as long as they get their work done.

It doesn't look like John had been doing work though, unless scraping his initials into the table with a pair of rusty scissors is the assignment.

"'sup?" responds John impassively.

"Ya know where Kyo is?"

"No. You?"

"Me either. You think maybe he got suspended for fighting? I haven't seen Aizawa either. Come to think of it, I haven't even seen Marcus," notes Ian.

John shrugs. "Kyo does cut class a lot. Maybe he's just embarrassed about losing to that dork. As for Aizawa: I could care less about where he is. Marcus on the other hand has some explaining to do. I'd like to know why he deserted us yesterday, as he seems to be doing a lot lately."

A girl doing her math homework suddenly calls out, "Hey, anyone know what eleven plus three is?"

"Fourteen," answers Ian automatically.

The girl smiles at him. "Thanks, Ian! You're so smart."

"Yeah, Ian. You're a damn genius," leers John.

"Would all of you geniuses please go and work on your art projects," intervenes the teacher, fixing them with a stern look. "And Ian, go get a late slip."

"What a brilliant suggestion, Mrs. Goldman," says Ian, doing a bit of a dance as he exits and slamming the door behind him.

Out in the halls, Ian places himself in The Hiding Space: a small gap between the lockers that can't be seen if one is looking down the halls. Even walking by, most would miss it unless they know it's there. The space is tiny, and about the only reason Ian is ever grateful for his diminutive size. He produces a cell phone from out of a pocket in his jeans. Cell phones are forbidden in school, but hey, he needs it. How else is he supposed to communicate with friends who might be half way across the room? Or in Kyo's case, halfway across the country for all Ian knows the majority of the time.

He punches in the orange-haired boy's number, and the phone rings once. The phone rings a second time, then a third. Fourth. Just as Ian is prepared listen to the message of Kyo where he sounds like an old French dude for some reason, there is a clicking noise followed by a _"Uhhh, hello?"_

"Um, hi? This Kyo?" asks Ian, truly unable to tell if he is speaking to a just-woken Kyo or an actual old foreign dude.

"_Who else would it be?" _the voice snaps. Yeah, definitely Kyo.

"Man, where are you? I thought you weren't going to cut anymore, you sick or something?"

There's a pause on the other end, and Ian thinks they have been disconnected until Kyo says, _"I'm at Izzy's."_

Izzy? Ian didn't know an Izzy, did he? "Who's he?" Ian asks.

"_She. That girl we met yesterday, remember? The one with, like, the weird hair."_

"What you doing visiting her so early, dude?"

"_I got here after school yesterday. I just haven't left yet."_

"Whoa," Ian says. "You mean you-"

"_No, it's not like that! It's not what you think!"_

"Then what _should_ I think?"

"_I… I can't explain right now. Maybe later, but not right now. I'm sorry," _says Kyo. Ian doesn't think he sounds sorry. He sounds the same as ever, and that pisses Ian off.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he exclaims. "I've been your best friend for years, and you treat me like a fucking moron! I've been there for you when you needed someone and now you just completely shut me out of your life."

"_Ian… I'm sorry. That's not what I'm trying to do, believe me man."_

"Then what _are _you trying to do? If you have reason for being such a damn jerk, feel free to share it with me." Ian winces a little at the sound of his own words. Does he always talk like such a chick? At least the cursing might make it sound a bit more masculine.

"I can't-" 

"Can't explain right now," Ian finished for him. "I know. Save it for someone who gives a shit."

There was no response.

"Oh, fuck off," Ian said, punching the END CALL button and shoving the phone back into his pocket.

He leaves The Hiding Space and starts to head towards the office to get that late slip. He sees a few students along the way, and it might just be his imagination but they all seem to be giving him a wide berth like they're avoiding him. It somehow manages to make him feel even worse, so he enters the washroom, needing some alone time. Thankfully it's deserted; there aren't even the usual guys lighting up in the back.

Ian catches sight of himself in the mirror and finds himself gravitating towards his image. Contrary to how the students in the halls had treated him, he didn't seem to have acquired bubonic plague. He's not radiating anger either, which rather surprises him.

Then he sees it. His eyes are beginning to tear up. _That's not the same as crying, _he reminds himself. _You haven't cried since you broke your arm in fourth grade, why would you cry now? You're pissed off, not sad. _He can't stop his eyes from staring at their reflection and it gives him a weird feeling, like he's being absorbed into the mirror. He's being sucked into his own betraying brown eyes. He turns on the tap and there's a _ssshhhhh _sound as water travels through the pipes. He splashes the water on his face, washing away all emotion. He looks into the mirror again, and this time the image is more reassuring; apathetic expression with a bit of anger mixed in. Good. Dangerous. He notices a few drops of water clinging to his long dark eyelashes, and he hastily brushes those away.

Much more confidant and calm, Ian resumes his trip to the office and fills out a late slip. A few people looks up, then go back to their work as he rejoins the class. He goes to turn in his late slip, but is interrupted by the end of class bell. He looks over at the art teacher, but she's not paying him any attention.

He leaves to go to his next class.

**3**

"I heard that remark about my hair," says a voice from behind Kyo. He whips around, startled to see Izzy standing right there.

"How much did you hear?" he asks, inexplicably nervous.

"Just enough to know that you were talking to some angry guy who cursed a lot and that you think my hair is weird. Oh, and that your friend doesn't know about you being a demon."

"_Half­ _demon," corrects Kyo through gritted teeth.

After her trap had made him all stripy, Izzy had insisted that Kyo come over to her place until she could find the counter-curse. Kyo hadn't understood why. "I thought you said it would look like shadows to other people," he'd reasoned.

"True," Izzy had agreed. "But won't your friends get suspicious when they notice you have weird shadows on you all the time?" At her place, she had spent hours looking up cures to her spell, both on the net and from some strange old-looking books written in the same weird language the magic piece of paper had been covered in. She let him do whatever he wanted as she researched, saying that she felt she had to make it up to him. _Well, duh,_ Kyo had thought. _She put a weird tattoo all over my body and forced me to stay here._ But he had to admit, it was nice to be treated with such respect. From a demon hunter no less. He'd made himself a sandwich and a big bowl of some healthy cereal stuff that he consumed while watching a crime drama on television, followed by a stupid but entertaining movie about a psychic who a mob of pyrotechnicians wanted to kill for no explained reason.

At eleven o'clock, Izzy had suggested they turn in for the night. He had slept peacefully on the couch, covered in warm blankets. He couldn't remember ever sleeping so well before. It was ten in the morning when Ian had awoken him with that phone call.

This thought brings Kyo back jarringly to the present.

"Whatever," says Izzy. "If you don't mind me asking, how come John doesn't know about you? It sounds like you're pretty close, judging by how angry he was on the phone."

"John?" asks Kyo, bemused. "I was talking to Ian."

"Oh. I just assumed that John was your best friend."

"You heard that part?"

Izzy shrugs. "It was hard not to. Dude was loud."

Kyo sighs quietly. "Ian's my best friend, I guess. I have more in common with John, but I've known Ian longer. He can be annoying, but he's always been there for me. But now… I think I've fucked that up too."

"What is it with guys? You realize you're allowed to have other emotions besides anger, right? Friends fight all the time; it's no big deal. If you want to fix things just apologize and tell him the truth. If you can't trust him with that, he's not much of a friend, is he? I told my best friend," says Izzy fiercely.

"Yeah, _yesterday," _Kyo points out.

"And she hasn't turned me in to the demons yet, so I'd say we're safe. I should have told her earlier. I would have if I'd been thinking straight. It was conceited of me to assume the revelation of my secret was going to be the most exciting thing to happen in her life. Just tell him, he'll probably take it the same way."

Kyo doesn't want to point out that from where he was standing, it didn't seem like Sharla had taken it that well. She'd looked shocked and been pretty quiet, then left. But maybe Izzy had been expecting something worse. Hell, Kyo can't even figure out what _he _is expecting to happen if he tells Ian. Just something…. Well, bad. He is about to say something, but Izzy speaks first.

"I think I've got it. Here, hold this," she says, handing Kyo… a vegetable.

"Is this a _turnip?" _he asks dubiously.

"Yeah, the spell calls for a turnip," says Izzy.

"I thought you just had to write these things out for them to work."

"Sometimes they require ingredients too. And chanting. In this case we need you to hold the turnip and stand in the middle of a diagram of a rune while I sing."

It seems really anticlimactic to Kyo, but he stands still, turnip in hand, while she uses a piece of blue chalk to draw a complex diagram around where he is standing in the center of the living room floor. Then she begins to sing in what he can only assume is the spoken form of the weird written language. He has to admit, it's as beautiful as it is strange, like no language he has ever heard before, yet he is startled to realize he understands it. Or at least he gets the gist of what she is saying. She's singing of life and death and rebirth; of the natural and of the spiritual world. She's singing of things that there are no words for in any other language.

The room seems to disappear and a sphere of swirling multicolored wind surrounds him. The sphere gets smaller and smaller and the colors come closer and closer to him, until he can feel them whipping through his hair and skimming between his fingers. Suddenly the sphere is going _through _him, actually inside of him. He can feel its power, its energy pulsing through him in rhythm with his heartbeat; so overwhelmingly _alive. _When it is completely inside him, the pulse suddenly pauses. Then –

_RELEASE. _

The energy swells and bursts, leaving his body in a sudden gust. The black pattern that was tattooed on his skin unravels and follows the tendrils of color. And once again, he is standing in Izzy's living room.

Kyo looks down at himself, breathing hard. His skin is back to its usual tan tone, no tattoo to be seen. And his clothes are ripped to shreds. He is standing in the middle of a girl's living room with shreds of cloth hanging off him, nothing but his boxers intact.

Those are intact, right? He looks down through the strips of cloth that remain of his pants. By some miracle, his underwear has survived.

"I can't believe it worked! This is the most complicated spell I've ever performed, and it didn't even have any downsides!" exclaims Izzy proudly.

"Um, _Izzy?" _

"Yeah? Oh," she says, noticing the rags he is wearing. As though to emphasize his point, half of Kyo's shirt falls off onto the floor. "I'll go find you something to wear. But you have to admit, as downsides of spells go, this one was pretty mild."

""Pretty mild?" Do you realize how much those cost?" mutters Kyo, but Izzy doesn't hear as she has already left to find him something to wear. A minute later she returns, her arms loaded with garments.

"These should fit you," she remarks, holding up a pair of blue jeans with rips at both knees and dumping the rest of the clothes on the sofa.

"Those your brother's or your dad's?" asks Kyo.

"They're mine. But they're made for guys, I just couldn't find them in women's style and they were about my size. They should fit you." She tossed them to Kyo and he examined them doubtfully. Sure enough, the label read SIZE 28, MENS.

He was about to put them on, when he noticed Izzy still standing there. "Could you, umm," he said.

"What?" asks Izzy.

"LeavesoIcanchange?" he says quickly.

"Oh! Yeah, I'll… just go do that then," says Izzy.

Kyo rolls his eyes. She was such a ditz, and she was the one protecting the town from evil demons. Didn't that just make him feel safe?

The pants did fit, really well actually. He rummaged through the pile of other clothes and selected a white T-shirt, plain except for the logo of some band he'd never heard of. "Done yet?" called Izzy from the hall.

"Yeah, I'm done!" Kyo shouted back.

Izzy reentered, examining Kyo with her eyes. "Ya look good. Those pants fit you better than they do me," she observes.

"They _are _guys pants," says Kyo.

"Well, on to the second order of business. Yuki Aizawa and his demon," says Izzy.

Kyo winces internally. Aizawa had completely slipped his mind, and who knows how much damage he has done by now? He really should have brought it up earlier.

Izzy continues. "Do you know what demon it is?"

Kyo shakes his head. "He got Haru to summon it for him. A ninth grade kid, doesn't go to our school. He's really interested in the supernatural and stuff, and he's friends with Aizawa."

"Do you know where he lives?"

"Sure," says Kyo, and states the address.

"Great, I'll just head over ther…" She suddenly slumps forward, and Kyo reaches out to catch her.

"Are you okay?"

She nods weakly. "Just… tired…"

Kyo guides her to the sofa and she sits down. "I don't think you had better go anywhere," he says gently.

Izzy nods in agreement.

"I'll go speak to him," suggests Kyo.

"No… I need to watch over you for a while… make sure no errors in the spell suddenly materialize." Kyo thinks she seems more like the one who needs watching over, but he doesn't say so. "I'll call someone to go talk to Haru." She removes a cell phone from her pocket and started dialing.

**4**

Haru sits on his bed playing guitar and staring out the window at the treetops, rooftops, and sky. He's grateful it's a PD day and he has a chance to relax. He plucks a three-note sequence and then strums a chord. That sounds good. Sort of like the intro to an emotional rock song. He plays it again, this time adding in a few other chords. Suddenly the thickest string on the instrument snaps and Haru lets out a groan. Why did that have to happen when he was so inspired? Making his way downstair he calls out, "Mom, I need a new G string! The big kind-" he cuts off abruptly, seeing a girl in the doorway speaking with his mother. "For my guitar, I mean…" he clarifies lamely.

"Oh, there you are Haru. You have a friend who want to speak with you," says his mother.

"Hi," Haru tells the girl who is apparently his friend, though he's never seen her before. "So, what's the occasion?"

"I'll leave you kids be," says Haru's mom, returning to the kitchen to finish making dinner or lunch or something. She always seems to be cooking.

"My friend sent me to talk to you," says the girl. "I'm Sharla, by the way."

"Haru. So what do you need me to do for you?"

"I'm supposed to find out about Yuki Aizawa. Apparently you, um, summoned something for him. Can you tell me what it was?" She looks nervous, Haru notes.

"I'm sorry, I need to protect my client's confidentiality."

"Clients? You're, like, fifteen."

"I'm sorry," he says, "I can't tell you."

"Why not? It's not like you'll get in trouble. You think I'm going to tell your mom and she'll ground you for summoning demons or something?"

Haru grimaces. "My mom doesn't like me studying this stuff. But no, that's not what I'm afraid of. I just can't tell you. Yuki…"

"You're protecting him, aren't you? Typical. Don't you realize that if we don't find out what this thing is and get it out of him, your friend will be gone forever?" says Sharla fiercely. That was what Izzy had told her to say, right? It must have been, because it has quite an effect on Haru.

"No… Yuki…" he moaned.

"So are you going to tell me?"

"I will," says Haru, meeting her gaze with his huge, gorgeous brown eyes, "If you can promise me that you're not going to use this against Yuki. Just to help him, because he has a lot to deal with already and he never intended to hurt anyone. He just wanted those guys to leave him alone and give him some respect."

"I promise, Haru. We want to help him, just like you do," says Sharla, suddenly feeling sympathetic towards the younger boy. He's just scared for his friend, like she would be for Izzy. Actually, she is scared for Izzy right now. What was she thinking, getting herself involved with all this stuff? Izzy may be intelligent and probably knows what she is doing, but still…

"I thought Yuki had enough self-control that he wouldn't let it take over him," Haru says vaguely.

"And what is _it _exactly?"

"The spirit of Trevor Westweaver."

Sharla gasps. Trevor Westeaver is one of the most notorious figures in history; so terrible that Sharla can vividly remember every awful detail they had learned about him in history class. Westweaver had been a notoriously brutal war general, and had been put to death for slaughtering many of his own men as "retribution" over minor incidents.

And he was here in their little blink-and-you'll-miss-it town.

"What the bloody hell would Aizawa want with Trevor Westweaver inside him?" she says quietly.

But she knows the answer:

Retribution.

**5**

The lunch hour bell rings and students flood into the halls, chatting happily. But not for long.

He bursts through the doorway, slamming the first student he sees against the wall. A few screams ripple through the crowd as people try to make sense of what is happening. He'd missed this, after all those years of imprisonment, his coal-black soul bound to the earth but unable to do anything but observe. Not anymore. He lashes out at a few more students, relishing in their fear and confusion. Just listen to those shrieks.

Suddenly his ears pick up something else. Not a scream, not rapid fire horror-powered footsteps. It's the sound of defiance.

"Stop right there, Westweaver," demands the defiant voice. He wheels around, coming face to face with what Yuki's memory recognizes as Kyo Hirozuka.

Kyo charged at him.


	5. 4: Zombie Tag

Evil Town

Chapter Four

Zombie Tag

…

This is the second time I'm typing this chapter because the first time my computer deleted everything. I hate this machine so freaking much right now. It has a virus or something, which is odd because it's not even connected to the internet (I have to transfer files about a million times to get them on to fanfiction dot net) If it wasn't for Alanis Morissette, I don't think I'd ever have found the inspiration to write this all out again. Isn't it ironic? (Sorry, that was really, really bad) Anyway, I would like to thank T.I.B.E.-sway- for the review. The chapter name comes from a game my friend Addi made up when we were in grade one. Sorry for the similarity between the names Isuzu and Izoku; I honestly just noticed that now. Also, sorry for how disgustingly out of character everyone seems to be getting; next chapter they will hopefully be back to normal. Another apology (ack, I'm such a Ritsu) for the weird pseudo-profound semi-poetic stuff at the end of this chapter. I have a tendency to think in poetry sometimes.

**1**

John's eyes are forced wide open by the bizarre and violent scene unfolding before them. Aizawa has attacked several people, apparently at random, and now he and Kyo are beating the crap out of each other, no holds barred. There's not a hint of order or gracefulness to their combat; just scratching, pushing, tripping, the like. They seem to spend more time on the floor thrashing about than on their feet. What's weirder than the violence is the fact that Aizawa is behind it. He's not a particularly strong looking guy, and he's definitely never shown this kind of power before – normally, Kyo would just shove him over or something and that would be it. John realizes with a start that he's never actually seen Yuki fight before.

But there are tons of students in these halls, having gravitated towards the violence, shouldn't they be able to overpower him? John squints, trying to make out any details through the fear-energized throng of students blocking his vision. John sees Yuki is covered in purplish and red splotches, like paint. It suddenly dawns on him what he's seeing and he must resist the urge to vomit. Injuries. How the fuck can that dude be standing, much less fighting? He can't tell if Yuki has a weapon, but he must if he's got everyone so terrified.

What could have made a passive-seeming guy just snap like that? Maybe he's always been this… - strong? Dangerous? Violent? John isn't sure which word he means – and just holding back out of the goodness of his heart or something lame like that. But that doesn't make sense either; this is high school, no one holds back because nothing seems real. Just ask the school shootings you see on the news all the time.

Oh man, please say this isn't one of those.

A few teachers are standing in the doorways to classrooms, beckoning students to come in (not standard lockdown procedure, but they've never had a need to have an actual lockdown before), but most of the students are too enthralled by the violent behavior to bother looking away. Some people are crying, some running aimlessly, some just staring. At the opposite end of the ring of observers, he spots Ian – one of the just staring ones. Wait, he's not just staring; he's staring _and_ walking towards Kyo and Yuki.

"The hell?" John mutters. "Dude, what are you doing?" he shouts. Ian doesn't react, but he probably didn't hear anyway. Can't these damn observers just shut up? If no one answered them the first 50 times, you'd think they'd get the hint that no one knows "What's going on?"John yells something again; somehow he's not sure what.

Ian is just a few feet away from Kyo as the orange-haired guy is thrown against the wall with a loud _crack! _which John hopes came from the wall.

Without thinking, John aggressively pushes his way past the crowd – knocking over a few people, but hey, they'll heal – and into the eye of the storm. His body still on autopilot, he slams into Ian with a tackle that would have gotten him on the football team had John held any interest in sports. Ian actually flies forward, airborne, before landing a few feet away. Not far enough from the danger yet, but still a bit safer.

Ian has a weird glazed look in his eyes as he looks up, not even bothering to pull himself up from the floor, and says tonelessly, "Why did you…? We have to help Kyo."

John blinks rapidly and shakes his head hard like he does when he is listening to loud music alone in the basement. He tries to exorcise whatever possessed him to do that from his mind. But there's no use explaining that to Ian, who will just ask what "exorcise" means, so instead John says, "Look at him, man. Both of them. They're in complete combat-mode, not even noticing their surroundings. You'd get crushed." He's feeling sorry for Ian so he declines to add, _because you're like four feet tall and a crappy fighter. _

Ian just nods slowly. They've both seen Kyo like this before, and it had scared the hell out of at least John. It was like his friend would become an entirely different person. Of course Kyo would never hurt him, but this stranger… there was really no telling.

"C'mon," John says, grabbing Ian's arm and dragging him to his feet before leading him out of the school. With all the excitement, no one will really give a shit if they skip anyway. As for finding out what happens… well, they'll just catch it on the evening news.

_You fucking hypocrite, _John's conscience nags.

**2**

Yuki looks absolutely terrible. His eyes appear hollow and are open far wider than is natural on a human face, bulging and surrounded by dark shadows. His normally elegant features are unrecognizable due to injuries and lack of sleep. He looks like he should be unconscious – or dead. His clothes are raggedy, ripped, and stained with mud and blood. He's grinning like some feral creature as he seems to eye Kyo's jugular.

But what's worst is the shadow. The spirit of Westweaver, a glittering stain. It hangs over Yuki, like a thundercloud, only unlike the natural phenomenon, this cloud is entirely unnatural and wrong. It swells and constricts in arrhythmic pulsations, spreading over the room and then shrinking back to a small dense sphere situated directly over Aizawa's head. Thanks to Izzy's protective spell, the shadow no longer has the same effect on Kyo that it did formerly, but it still makes him a bit nauseous.

Nothing could have prepared him for this, Kyo realizes as the possessed boy slams him painfully against the wall. But right now, he's as ready as he'll ever be, and it's now he has to act. Kyo dodges Yuki's fist and slips out from where he had been pinned before his opponent has a chance to process his escape. The orange-haired boy takes a few steps back before lunging forward, transferring all his weight to his fist. To the apparent surprise of both of them, the blow connects, hitting Yuki directly in his ribcage. Hard. Something sounds to snap within Yuki and he stumbles backward. Kyo takes advantage of his unbalance and trips him, causing Yuki to land awkwardly on the white tiles of the school floor. Sure, it was a dirty move, but like summoning a ghost to fight for you _isn't. _

Somehow, Yuki is back on his feet almost before he hits the ground. He continues grinning, as though he's asking Kyo to just _try_ and harm him. Thoroughly pissed off, the half-demon complies, aiming a high kick at his opponent.

Yuki grabs hold of his foot mid-kick and jerks so Kyo loses his footing and hits his head on the floor. A painful dizziness rattles through Kyo's skull, but he has little time to think about that before he is flipped over Yuki's shoulder and once again thrown towards the wall. This time however, after falling what seems like 10 feet, Kyo lands sideways on a desk. His momentum immediately causes the desk to topple over, causing a domino effect in an entire row of desks stretching down the hallway. Kyo grimaces as he runs a hand over his injured side, checking for damage. Miraculously, all his bones seem to be intact. What are all these desks doing in the hall anyway? Oh yeah, they were moving them around to the gym for upcoming midterms. He'd forgotten the school's schedule due to all these evil supernatural creatures assaulting him. If Yuki survives this, Kyo is going to kill him.

It suddenly dawns on Kyo that there are several students clustered around him, their faces looking down on him and their hands offering to help him up. He growls angrily and his potential assistants all take a few steps back from him. Damn it, how had he not realized all these people were here? _Normal _people, full-blooded humans without a demon's heightened athletic abilities, a demon hunter's magic, or even the sensibility of one who'd seen real danger before. The only time these people had faced death was in movies and video games; which was why Kyo couldn't stay here.

With an irritating slowness, Kyo pulls himself back up with the aid of an overturned desk. Yuki's grin widens in anticipation as Kyo runs towards him. The grey-haired boy begins running too, directly in Kyo's path to bring the inevitable crash about as soon and as brutally as possible.

At least, the crash would have been inevitable if Kyo had not swerved away at this precise moment. He continues running down the hall, quickly putting distance between himself and his observers. Even if they run their hardest, they have no chance of keeping up with a martial-arts-trained adrenaline-loaded demon. His lungs demand air but by sheer force of will Kyo makes himself take short even breaths, knowing anything else will send sharp stabs of pain to shoot through his ribs. His footsteps thunder down the halls, echoing loudly. It's not that he can't run more quietly, flee less conspicuously; it's that he doesn't choose to because his intentions are the exact opposite.

He wants to be chased.

And sure enough, he is. Just as his peripheral vision sends him flashes of his surroundings, memory steps in to create a detailed map of the school's hallways in his mind, and instinct alerts him of all the twists and turns down the corridors, a sense Kyo cannot quite explain reminds him nonstop that Westweaver's presence is coming after him, rapidly closing the gap between them. Maybe no human can keep up with him, but like Kyo'd expected, the Yuki-Westweaver combo isn't anything remotely like a human. They are even more Other than he himself is.

But that's fine, because everything is going according to the plan that Kyo thought up all of 20 seconds ago.

He turns abruptly, diving into a classroom – thankfully it's deserted, as predicted – and slamming the door hard behind him. He's thankful for his height as he flips the lock at the top of the door tightly shut. Then, more out of semi-superstition (he isn't sure what to call it, since the supernatural obviously exists but what he's doing is still rather ridiculous) he fumbles the second lock on the doorknob closed, though he doubts Westweaver will have any need to bother hunting down a key. The school is notorious for buying the cheapest things possible, even if, according to widely accepted schoolyard rumor, they don't meet regulation standards. He doubts the staff have had a sudden change of heart and decided to splurge on extra-strength doors.

His memory has served correctly, and this is the classroom that is currently being used to store the extra desks and other school supplies. Something scratches on the door, and Kyo wants to laugh and scream all at the same time but does neither. It's exactly like the sound effects in horror stories Kyo and his friends had scared each other with as kids. But those stories were laughable in comparison to reality – where the monsters are real, where the risks are real.

_Slam. _This is more like it. _Slam. Slam. _It sounds like someone is hurtling his body against the door, full force behind it. Probably because that's exactly what's happening. Okay, to be fair, someone is hurtling someone else's body against the door. Same difference. At the moment, Kyo isn't making a big distinction between Yuki and Westweaver. They're both stupid bastards who have put a bunch of innocent people at risk because they felt like it.

He doesn't have much time, so Kyo immediately gets to work. He begins to reorganize the entire room, fashioning a haphazard jungle gym out of furniture, mostly desks stacked on top of each other. It should be exhausting and painful work, considering the energy he has just expended as well as his wounds, but it appears the adrenaline is still working and his body is too glad not to be being beat on at the moment to bother complaining about moving furniture. He's going to be sore when he wakes up tomorrow morning, though. That is, if he _does _wake up tomorrow morning. A clump of bright orange hair falls in front of Kyo's eyes and he shakes his head to get it away, since his hands are too busy placing two chairs atop a large table.

One of the chairs squeaks loudly as its leg scrapes against the wood. Kyo winces, his nerves on end. But soon all is quiet again, except for the jackhammer pounding of Kyo's heartbeat. Everything is silent. Everything is fine for the moment.

Then he realizes that everything is not fine because everything is not _supposed _to be silent. Nervously, Kyo turns to the door. It stands ominously still, no longer rattling on its hinges. Did Westweaver give up? Somehow, in the short time Kyo had known the vengeful spirit, he hasn't gotten the impression that Westweaver is the easily dissuaded type. The orange-haired teen looks over his handiwork. It isn't laid out as conveniently and meticulously as in kung-fu movies, but it will have to do. The furniture is stacked so high in some places that if he stands on it he can easily touch the ceiling. The visible undersides of the desks are plastered in used gum and graffiti – everything from love notes, racial slurs, and quotes by musicians he has never heard of. He might ask Izzy if she is familiar with them next time he sees her. Across the room is a clearing, an empty space that seems far too vast to be contained in this room. Does that make any sense? Than again, this is a very nonsensical world he seems to be trapped in. However, this is the universe he's stuck in, and since he doesn't know what comes next he plans to stay stuck here for at least another hundred years.

Oh shit.

Kyo's gaze freezes, catching on to blue door across the room. It's highly conspicuous, bright blue against the white wall. Even while arranging his surroundings, he had overlooked something this significant.

The doorknob is turning.

This is what Kyo wants, isn't it? To be able to fight Westweaver here and now? Yet Kyo's blood has turned to ice. His legs may be saturated with adrenaline but all they can manage to do is shake inside their new lead boots.

Yuki's half-way in the door, foggy tendrils of shadow stretching out to explore their new surroundings.

How did Westweaver find this place anyway? Oh right, he has Yuki's memories.

Kyo forces himself back into mobility, rushing over to slam the door. It can do nothing to prevent Yuki from entering of course, since he is already three quarters in the room, but it catches his leg with sickening force. An uncontrollable wave of guilt sweeps over Kyo; his fighter's conscience. You just don't _do _something like that. He doesn't want to be responsible for lopping off Yuki's leg.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Yuki seems to be fine – well, "fine" probably isn't the right word, as the freaky blank stare and bruises all over his body indicate, but he does have all his limbs even if he's limping a bit. He's moving much more slowly now than he was, like he is in no hurry; he knows Kyo is already trapped. To Kyo he looks like a cross between a marionette and a zombie. Not a pleasant combo.

The shadowy fog is thicker than ever.

**3**

Izzy is in the middle of a vivid dream involving Vikings and a giant pizza when she hears the doorbell ring. "A'ight! Our second order's here!" she exclaims to the Viking next to her, but all he does is fade away, only to be replaced by her own living room. Oh, a dream. She knew that, right. But it's a shame, really; that pizza sounded so good…

The bell rings again. "Guess that's real, then," she mutters groggily before going to answer it. As soon as she stands up, exhaustion assaults her and she must sit down again. _I'll get it in a few seconds, _she promises herself. Instead, she manages to inadvertently slip back into sleep, snoozing even as she falls backward, landing on the pile of soft blankets.

"Izzy," a voice intones seriously.

"Yeah?" she says reflexively.

"Wake up," the serious voice orders.

Izzy bites back a reply of _no, I'm tired, go away _and cracks an eye open. She does whatever the equivalent of a shocked jump is for a person lying down when she sees the person standing over her. "What are you doing here, Rin?" Izzy demands, now fully awake, "and how did you even get in?"

The Japanese girl eyes her coldly. "There was no response when I rang. I thought something might have happened to you." Her voice is calm, but stormy sarcasm is clearly lurking underneath her words. Izzy wonders what she's done to deserve it. "I had no choice but to make a way in for myself. If you studied like you should, you'd be able to do it yourself."

Of course Rin is talking about being Chasers, not studying for school. But that does raise the issue… "Shouldn't you be at school," says Izzy, attempting to imitate the other girl's icy tone.

She must fail miserably though, because Isuzu just laughs bitterly. "_I _should. Right. While you just play sick and let a malevolent spirit rip the student body to shreds, I should be diligently practicing my arithmetic."

"That's not what I mean!" Izzy stands up in anger, immediately regretting it. She sits back down, palms pressed over her eyes as though that will somehow release the pressure that seems to be building inside her head. Her hair is falling in front of her face, slipping through her fingers. She knows she must look pathetic.

"You really are sick, aren't you," she hears Rin say. Her voice is muffled like it's coming from another room, but that doesn't keep Izzy from recognizing the lack of sympathy in her tone. It sounds like Rin sees being sick as just another sign of weakness.

"Not sick. Just tired," Izzy mumbles. Maybe it's just paranoia, but she's sure she can feel the other girl's eyes narrow at her. _I can't help it if she sees me as weak, because that's what I am now, isn't it? Damn, why can't I just _sleep? Izzy thinks.

"Trust _you_ to stay out all night partying with a threat like this on the lose."

"I wasn't partying! I'm not like that. The reason I'm tired is 'cause I… I…" She has to stop; her head is throbbing with every syllable like a painful, irregular second heartbeat.

"You _what?" _Rin says; loud, impatient, and still wholly unsympathetic.

"Protective spell! Kyo, Hirozuka – on him. So he could… fight. Westweaver…" Izzy's mouth can't quite seem to get the hang of the English language at the moment, alternately speeding up and slowing down.

She must still be relatively coherent, because Rin immediately loses her temper as soon as the words are out. "Westweaver? Shit, _Westweaver? _And you didn't tell me before!"

Izzy opens her eyes and looks straight up at Rin, defiance blazing within her. "Yeah, Trevor Westweaver. Why should I have told you, anyway? This is my district, why don't you go look after your own?" She is surprised at the calmness she is able to put behind her words, considering that inside she's a cyclone of anxiety and rage.

On the other hand, Rin's anger is fully visible. Figurative sparks are flying in her eyes, and _literal _sparks are flying from her fingertips. Maybe she really is as strong as she claims, because Izzy's never had that happen to her. Or maybe Rin has just achieved a higher state of pissed-off-ness than Izzy has ever managed. The sparks make little crackling noises as they hit the floor and furniture, but they don't seem to be leaving any burn marks.

On the other hand, Rin's tone is scorching. "This isn't some stupid vendetta, Izoku. We're not competitors, like you've deluded yourself into thinking. Grow the hell up. Do you have any idea of what you just did? At least one innocent person is dead because of you! And that's probably a gross underestimate."

It takes Izzy a moment to process all this. It's strange having Isuzu speak to her so formally – and so angrily. They've never really been close friends, but they'd said hi in the halls, that kind of stuff. Being indifferent to the social hierarchy can do one of two things – A) make a person "cool"; not merely popular, but revered. Untouchable. Or B) cause one to be viewed as a complete and total outcast.

Luckily for them, Izzy and Rin had both gotten option A. Not only had they been indifferent to the social structure, up 'til now they've also been relatively indifferent to each other. Two sheep passing in the night. Or did that saying mean something else entirely?

What took Izzy even longer to process than her (not quite) witty social commentary, is that Kyo is the one being described as an "innocent person." Doesn't Rin realize that he technically isn't either of those things? Izzy feels a tad superior to finally know something before the other girl. "Kyo is a demon. He's stronger than a regular person." It sounds like some geeky superhero tagline, but it's the best she can come up with at the moment.

"Half-demon," Rin corrects. She runs her finger along the ridges of a lampshade as she talks, but her piercing gaze never once strays from Izzy. "He may be stronger than an average full-human in most situations, but this is one of those exceptions. It's a fact that people are stronger than they realize, and if all the restrictions and expectations we've placed on themselves are to be removed, we become exponentially stronger. You've heard those stories about women lifting cars off their kids? The majority of them are total bullshit, but the rumors had to have started somewhere. Sometimes these things do happen. The possessed guy has shed those restrictions – your half-demon hasn't."

Izzy feels sick, and this time it isn't just physically. "How can we beat him, then?" she croaks.

"Well, it's going to take more than a minor protection spell. But those restrictions are there for a reason. Evolution, a higher power, whatever you believe, made sure we had those boundaries for the sake of our own survival. There's been people unable to feel pain or born without the fear gene. It may sound convenient, but most die before they make it to adulthood. If the boy gets too weak to be of use to the spirit, it will seek out another host. It's vulnerable when it doesn't have something living to contain it, so that's when it can be captured. Did you know that?"

Izzy nods, relieved that she'd at least done one thing right. Isuzu begins walking towards the door.

"Wait, I'm coming!" says Izzy.

Rin glares at her. "There's no need. Go sleep if you need it so bad." With that she's gone.

Izzy stares at the ceiling, doubting sleep will ever come to her. _Nurit Izoku, you screwed up big time. _And is that how Rin sees her? Immature, weak, a partier?

The stucco on the ceiling is sort of like clouds or constellations. She can see shapes in it. Random things like giraffes and motorcycles.

Is Kyo actually going to die? She immediately feels guilty for thinking about him as a non-person, even if for a moment. What makes his life any less valuable than her own? At least he wasn't the one who made such a thoughtless, dumbass decision.

The world is rocking back and forth. Not like an earthquake, but like she's in a boat.

She's going to do a spell, she decides. It's better she exhaust herself into a coma than let innocent people die, as Rin had said.

Her eyes seem to have slipped shut without her realizing. For some reason it doesn't really bother her.

Had she really done only a minor protection spell? She didn't realize there was a more advanced version. She'll look it up.

Rocking back and forth, back and forth. Out to sea. The shapes in the ceiling are coming alive with the sparks from Rin's fingertips.

Izzy is asleep.

**4**

Kyo leaps down, the mountain of desks crumbling behind him. As soon as he's in the air he knows it was a stupid decision – he's never executed this move before, and has only ever seen it done in badly dubbed movies on Spork – The Channel For Manly People, where the stunt strings and boom mike were clearly visible.

Too late now. He crashes to the ground, but not before he manages to air-tackle Yuki. Yuki smashes into a wall and Kyo thumps into the floor, and Kyo is pretty sure the move has hurt him more than the other combatant. Stupid media misinformation.

While Kyo's down, Yuki attempts to punch him in the face. The half-demon blocks Yuki's hand and kicks him in the shin. Yuki falls, his hands just above Kyo's shoulders, his feet on their tips. Without thinking, Kyo slips through the space between his legs and quickly stands up. Who'd have thought that stupid gym dance unit would be more useful than what he'd learned on television?

Soon Yuki is up again too, and the pair continue to exchange kicks, punches, and other less conventional attacks. Kyo knows this guy is way stronger than him, but he refuses to give up. He's fighting for his life, and the lives of others. Surely that's gotta count for something, right?

Or not. Kyo is kicked squarely in the chest, before he has a chance to block or even adopt a defensive pose. He hits the wall back-first and crumples to the ground. The wind is knocked out of him and he gasps but can't seem to get any air inside his lungs. He hurts all over, which he is actually grateful for; it means his spinal column didn't snap, so he's not paralyzed. Yet he can't seem to move…

Or see. He takes another rasping attempts at inhaling, but it's like trying to breathe sandpaper. Something like this has happened to him once before, when he'd been skating and tried to grind on the high garbage cans outside 7-11 and had fallen off. But at least that time he hadn't lost his vision.

It's that cloud, isn't it? It seems like it got darker every time he hit Yuki. Now it has taken all the light out of the room.

At least he's not going to be permanently blind.

Of course, it might mean he's about to be permanently dead.

For the first time, he realizes he's not seeing just pure black. He can see a bit of his physical surroundings if he squints, but not much. It's more that there are weird shapes in it, like the things that swim in front of you when you close your eyes for a long time.

Or like those things he'd seen when Izzy was casting spells. Is he seeing magic again? Maybe he can find Yuki like this. Since he'd seen magic energy inside himself, other people probably have it too. If he can just find Yuki's… what exactly? It sounds condescending to call it his soul, maybe essence is the word? His core? Whatever, he'll locate it first and then work out the correct term for it.

That flash of white barely visible out of the corner of Kyo's eye? No, that's an overturned desk. How about those gold sparks? Kyo blinks rapidly, confirming that those are just in his own eyes. That blue glowy thing? No…

The fog is still thickening, and Kyo is vaguely aware of his body sliding down from where it has been propped against the wall, until he's spread eagle and utterly defenseless on the floor. Speaking of, the floor is pleasantly cool and he wishes he could just sink into it and escape this whole absurd mess.

That grey smudge? No… wait. Before he has a chance to look closer, the grey is blotted out by the cloud.

He's sinking.

If only he could just tune out Westweaver…

Just

Tune

Him

Out.

_I'm sinking._

_I'm going to go unconscious. _

Just Tune Him Out. Like a radio, change the frequency. **Find Yuki's station.** _So much interference. _There. 

It's a beat. Rhythmic Faint but Still Going Strong enough a **heartbeat** just Holding On _drum_Beat. And A

whistle: weak and white-noise laced but still sustaining a vital _tune _Breathing and

neurons Firing like notes **scales **chords leading the Rhythem as the Beath pumps pumps on.

Beneath it all, something deeper. Lyrics, words sung/spoken/whispered in Izzy's language – a long forgotten First language. Impossible to translate but strong and scared and intelligent and Too Young To Die but would (Die, that is) if someone didn't stop this

(well then kyo will stop it there's no other option stop it adjust the frequency make things right fight stop it) Now.

It shifts again, the whole universe twisting into another bizarre dreamscape. This time there are clear visuals but no sound, and his thoughts seem to have cleared up into something semi-coherent. But even if he can see, he can barely comprehend what he's beholding. Kyo is floating above it all, looking down upon the scene. Yuki is there, lying on his back perfectly straight. The thought comes unbidden into Kyo's mind that he looks like he's in a coffin. Up until now, the half-demon has never understood why people always say the dead look at peace. In the one case where he'd actually seen a dead person before, that person had looked anything but; maybe that was because the death had been sudden, terrible, seemingly meaningless. But this is different. Yuki lies perfectly still, an expression of utter contentment and serenity on his face, as though all is right with the world.

Except all isn't right.

And Yuki isn't dead.


	6. 5: Vision Valley

Evil Town

Chapter Five

Vision Valley

…

I would like to thank T.I.B.E.-sway- for the review. If you get the chance you should definitely go check out her fanfiction, it's really amazing. Chapter title comes from a song by The Vines. I am not trying to offend anyone with any stupid comments Ian and John made, they are going to become less closed-minded in the future. I was just trying to make them sound like real people, and hopefully real people who say things like that will also learn better. So yeah, that's my disclaimer thing. More Fruits Basket characters will be introduced next chapter.

…

**1**

"Izzy? Izzy! Dammit, pick up already!" Sharla screams into the cell-phone, holding it to her ear as her semi-sensible shoes slam against the pavement. She grimaces at her own voice when it echoes back at her, filtered through a harsh metallic tunnel. Since her attempt at reaching her friend is clearly in vain, Sharla presses the "END CALL" button with significantly more force than necessary. Still running, knowing the physical exertion probably isn't a good idea for her but too full of adrenaline and caffeinated diet soda to stop, she holds the mechanical device in front of her to check for messages. It's far too bright outside, and the sunlight bounces off the pixilated miniature screen, making the scrolling characters imperceptible. Making a frustrated noise, she frantically tilts the cell back and forth, searching for a clear angle.

Her foot comes down on a discarded pop can and Sharla crashes forward onto the unforgiving pavement, phone slipping from her grasp.

"Are you okay?" asks a worried-looking elderly woman. The woman walks towards her and looks prepared to help her up.

"Yeah. Perfect," says Sharla, with bitterness that surprises even her. The woman quickly looks away as though the fallen girl is some obscene spectacle. Sharla doesn't blame her, she knows she's a mess. Sprawled out on the sidewalk. Clothes torn and hair askew. Face bright red and eyes blurred with tears. Wishing she could just shout that no, she is _not _okay, does it look like it? Would _you _be okay if your best friend mysteriously went incommunicado just after a weird magic-terrorist attacked your school, the people you see almost every day?

But she doesn't say it. She merely sobs once, wipes her nose on the sleeve of an already ruined garment, and begins rooting around for her phone. She finds it lying in the gutter, case cracked and buttons clogged with dirt. She wonders briefly if it will still function, then decides to hell with it and just leaves the device lying there as she picks herself up and resumes running. Maybe someone will find the phone and sell it for food. Or maybe drugs. Sharla doesn't even care, just wants to get as far away as possible.

Oh, crap. She reaches the point where the sidewalk splits off in two different directions; one way leads to Izzy's house, the other to the school. Sharla paces a tight circle and tugs at a strand of hair as she weighs her options, well aware the time to make any difference is ticking away.

She can go to Izzy's, check up on her best friend. The thought of anything bad happening to Izzy is worse than any other fate Sharla can picture. But if something happened to her, would Sharla even be able to help? This whole demon-and-magic thing is completely out of Sharla's grasp, and yet, so many things have always been going on without her knowledge or understanding that this doesn't even completely surprise her. If Izzy magically injured herself, Sharla is all too aware she'll be of no use to her friend. Or what if she just left the house? Maybe she's at the school right now. Even if Sharla is virtually clueless, at school she'll be among others with even less of an idea of what's going on. She can tell them to stay out of Aizawa's way, it's Westweaver they're dealing with. Or is she even allowed to say that? Maybe she'll just be assigned a completely ordinary (at least relative to how things have been going lately) task, such as taking account of who has gotten out of the building safely. And frankely, Sharla will be overjoyed to be given a task anyone can do.

She makes a snap decision and takes off.

**2**

_Yuki isn't dead._

At first Kyo has no clue how he knows this, and tells himself to dismiss it as wishful thinking. Yuki certainly isn't healthy, and may or may not be alive; there's no way of knowing at the moment.

_Kyo. Can you hear me? _

Not a voice but a thought, and not one of his own at that. Kyo must be imagining it…

But then again, in a place like this, where can one draw the line between imagination and reality? This world should be completely incomprehensible to Kyo, who has lived his entire life in a universe governed by entirely different laws. The faux-spiritual kids would probably call this a higher plane of existence, but Kyo doubts they have ever experienced anything like it; their brand of spiritualism seems to consist of leaning against walls, sifting through obscure old texts, and smoking who knows what. Kyo wouldn't know, but he is pretty sure this experience is nothing like getting high. It's too lucid for one thing, and it makes sense in its own bizarre way, unlike those losers' "visions."

And this is real.

Kyo attempts to focus his mental energy, unsure how exactly to go about this. He settles for just trying, and thinks at the other teen, **Yeah, I can hear you. Yuki? **It's not so much that Kyo can hear him as feel him, but that sounds creepy.

_You're strong. _Yuki's eyes open, but he neither rises or moves his mouth.

**Not strong enough, obviously, **Kyo thinks.

_You got this far._

**Not that I have any understanding what that means. Where did Westweaver go? **

_It's just us. _

**Why?**

_Look around you._

Kyo does as Yuki tells him, though he has no idea what he's supposed to see. Aside from the two of them, the entire world consists of impenetrable blackness. Or is it whiteness?

The absence of color. Not black or white, but opaque nothingness. No light, no air, nothing to sustain life or emotions. Yet Yuki and himself are clearly alive and visible, and something must be holding them up. Or are they falling? Somehow Kyo doubts it would make a difference. This nothingness somehow must block out emotions, for Kyo cannot seem to be angry with Yuki anymore, or even happy that they are both alive. Only peaceful, a bit confused, and oddly reenergized.

**Is this another world?**

_No, it's just us._

**I don't really understand.**

_I don't either. But it's a relief, this void, as opposed to Westweaver's chaos._

**I think I have to go back now.**

_When you're ready._

**I am. Will you come with me?**

_I can't. My body is weak, maybe destroyed. I think I'd die._

**Should I wait for you?**

_No. Just go, I'll be fine. _

Kyo wants to protest, but he knows that on some level Yuki really will be fine. But what level? If Yuki's body really is destroyed, he will die anyway after all this.

There's no telling what will happen next, but Kyo knows he has to return now, and he cannot force Yuki to come with him. He begins the journey back to the regular world – or perhaps journey is a misnomer, as Kyo stays rooted in one place as his surroundings change. The process is instinctive, natural, like waking up revitalized after a long sleep. His senses are reborn, firing responses to myriad stimuli. The floor is cool beneath him, and he hungrily sucks in the air, not caring that it is so cold it stings his throat. But everything is dark.

No, not dark, Kyo realizes. Like that strange world he has just returned from, he is surrounded by colorlessness, neither black nor white. But rather than nothingness, this is an insane combination of things; the warped, frenzied emotion of a vengeful spirit, hatred amplified by decades of solitude and inactivity. All at once given the means to inflict itself on the world that somehow wronged it. Westweaver's chaos, as Yuki said. But who had wronged Westweaver? He acted maliciously, without reason; how on earth could he relate to someone like Aizawa?

Kyo decides to try something. He focuses all his energy and tries to do the "tuning" thing he'd done before. Sure enough, the chaos turns translucent. He searches for its center, and there it is, pulsing in the center of the room. He tries to move towards it, but finds his body paralyzed. An icy shock runs through his veins, but Kyo reminds himself to calm down, recalling how his energy isn't yet directed towards his physical form. He tries again, this time attempting to move as he naturally would. It's surprisingly difficult to remember quite what that was like, and soon Westweaver's chaos is wreaking full-strength havoc on Kyo's vision, but the part-demon is once again mobile. Taking advantage of this fact, he rises to his feet with some difficulty, and begins to make his way towards the center of the room.

He trips over something. No, someone. Kyo doesn't bother to pick himself up off the floor, simply clutches his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them, coiling into a ball. He isn't forfeiting, but he doesn't see how walking aimlessly would be any more use. Or attacking the unmoving Yuki lying beside him, eyes once again locked shut. This position is simply comforting, defensive against the insistent coldness voraciously draining energy from the room.

Kyo takes a deep breath of frigid air and focuses his energy on tuning out the chaos out, so only the points of highest concentration remain visible. The process is much easier this time, and Kyo wonders if he always had this ability or if it is situational.

Even if his physical feelings are tuned out, on some spiritual level Kyo feels ill upon seeing what his effort have revealed. The highest concentration of chaos is directly _inside _Yuki, sending tendrils around and through him like the roots of some horrible parasitic plant. Smaller, fainter tendrils stretch around the room, even wrapping around Kyo, through unlike with Yuki and to the part-demon's relief, the roots appear to be unable to break through his skin.

Westweaver won't stop until he takes all the energy he can. From Kyo, from the room, and especially from Yuki.

**Yuki! You have to expel Westweaver from you, now! **Kyo projects, as "loudly" as he can. At first there is no response, and he worries that their connection has been severed now that he is no longer in that weird world.

Then: _I can't. _

Yes you can! If you don't do this, you are going to die. Westweaver will… I don't know, but it can't be good for a monster like him to be running around with all that power.

_I mean it, I _can't. _I'm not strong enough, I'll die if I go back into my body._

There's a chance you will die, but you don't have a chance if you just sit there and let him suck you dry!

_Maybe he'll stop after he kills me. I'm tired anyway. _

**Don't you get it? This isn't just your life you're playing around with! Stop with the self-pity shit and actually do something useful. After he's out of you, he'll look for another host, and that's when we'll have a chance to catch him!**

_You think if I could just kick him out I wouldn't have already? Kyo, I'm just not strong enough…_

Why didn't you just say so? I'll lend you some of my strength.

_Do you even know how to do that?_

Not really, but I'm sure we could figure it out.

_If I take too much, _you'll_ die. Or go into a vegetative state, more likely. _

**You think the odds of doing nothing are better? Take my energy, already! **

Not having a clue what he's doing, Kyo directs a good chunk of his energy into a haphazard sort of ball-shape, dissolves his attachment to it, and sends it flying towards Yuki.

Like a bad zombie movie, Yuki's eyes snap open and he sits straight up, mouth emitting a harsh scream. The tendrils unfurl and flap around pathetically, but the core does not budge. Kyo fires a few smaller energy spheres at Yuki, but it seems to have little effect. Trying another tactic, he forms another energy ball. But this one is small and dense, bullet-like, and he fires it as forcefully as possible, right at the chaos seed.

Success! The seed seems almost surprised, but greedily absorbs the energy nonetheless. As it does so, the energy expands and the Westweaver ricochets around the room, vacating Yuki. Although the vengeance spirit no longer seems remotely human, he projects a mood of satiation as he literally bounces off the walls. At least, he will be satisfied until he can figure out how to absorb all this energy. Meanwhile…

Seemingly unnoticed by Westweaver, Kyo stands up and begins mumbling. Now comes the complicated part – at least, that was what Izzy had referred to it as. Considering what has just happened, Kyo figures he had a brand-new definition of complicated. Carefully, he recites the words. They're in a foreign language – not the old language Izzy used, but something simpler and nonsensical-sounding, but there is something about the words that makes them stick in his mind. Lots of simple syllables, with a bunch of 'y's and 'r's. Then comes the movements, a bunch of lame, eighties-dance-move type things. Well, Kyo hasn't lived in the eighties and knows nothing about dancing, but he imagines they danced like this in the eighties.

He moves his arms back and forth, feeling utterly stupid and wondering if he's even doing this right because absolutely nothing seems to be happening. His finger jabs something wet and slimy. Ew, did he just poke Yuki in the eye or something? He turns to say something, but stops short. Hovering before him is what looks like an inkstain, a gleaming rip in the air. Although on this level of thinking and vision it should look identical to Westweaver, pure black, it somehow is entirely different to Kyo. Perhaps it is simply that when he looks at it, Kyo doesn't get that overwhelming, dizzying and even painful sense of dread. This is the exact opposite – his eyes are drawn to the inkstain, as hypnotic and beautiful as a flame.

It worked.

According to Izzy, spaces of "other" can be accessed and used for storage without much difficulty. These OtherSpaces (it sounds like there sound be a TM after that, but apparently this is the correct term) can be accessed from any location, although they do not technically move. Kyo, who found this explanation quite sketchy, asked numerous questions. Like if they can be accessed from anywhere, how come other people just don't steal from them? He'd been told that there are magic dividers put in place, in order to prevent people from accidentally accessing each other's belongings. It's highly unlikely anyone entrusted with the power, not to mention with enough knowledge, to access the OtherSpaces would be the type to steal from them; not because magic-users are more moral than regular people, as the sense of morality is subjective and the concept of ownership works differently in different cultures, but because if one attempted to remove the dividers, chances are she or he would be sucked into the perhaps infinitely vast OtherSpace, to die a slow death. Or, as some romanticists like to say, to float about in darkness and nothingness until the end of time. When Izzy told him that phrase, Kyo laughed, although he was definitely more than a little creeped out at the concept.

So, resisting the inexplicable urge to climb into the Space headfirst and see what it's like, Kyo hesitantly reaches in. The darkness is oily and moist on his skin, yet hardly puts up any more resistance against his movements than the air itself.

His hand now in up to past the elbow, Kyo's fingers brush against something solid. Inserting his other hand, he concentrates hard on keeping his balance and not falling forward. Gently he begins to move the object.

He produces a clay pot, about the size of a basketball but much heavier. The lid is firmly attached, seemingly irremovable, but Izzy says he doesn't need to take it off for the spell to work; only throw the think at Westweaver when he is outside of a host.

Now is the time, Kyo braces himself. Westweaver is still bouncing around, although he seems to be slowing down a bit now. All at once he comes to a standstill in midair, like someone in a Bugs Bunny cartoon. Westweaver gives the impression that he is scanning the room, although since he is an eyeless, faceless entity, Kyo can not be sure why he thinks this. Then…

Zoom. The core of chaos makes a beeline for the door. As a ghost, Kyo would have assumed him able to pass through walls, but he really has no time to think about such things right now.

"Oh no you don't!" Kyo shouts at the phantom orb, immediately taking off in a fast run. Kyo leaps up, pushing up off the floor and then a desk in order to gain more altitude and velocity. He hurtles the pot through the air, letting out a whoop as it sails directly towards Westweaver…

And is knocked to the floor as another, near-identical pot appears out of nowhere and collides with it, smashing Kyo's only chance at capturing Westweaver into dust and small shards.

"The hell?" screams Kyo. The entire, music-video-esque sequence makes an awful segue into reality. Kyo falls to the floor, toppling several desks in the process. He resurfaces just in time to see a black-haired girl nimbly reach out and catch the second pot. At least Westweaver doesn't take the chance to laugh at Kyo before he's through the doorway and out of view.

"When did you even get here, Isuzu?" Kyo demands, spinning round to direct all his fury at her.

She glares at him, answering, "Since just before you passed out. You're welcome for saving your ass."

"I had it under control!"

"Just like you do now?"

Kyo is too infuriated at what just happened, and now Isuzu's sarcasm, that he doesn't even take the time to wonder how she fits into all this. "If you hadn't interrupted, he'd be caught by-" he cuts off, as she is obviously not paying him any attention. He follows her out of the room, then down the hall. Of course, he doesn't want to follow her, but she moves briskly and confidently like she knows where the vengeful ghost has gone, whereas Kyo has no idea whatsoever. Even the thinner wisps of chaotic energy have disappeared, and although this is a definite relief in many ways, it does not aid in tracking this thing down. So Kyo settles for following Isuzu and attempting to look as though he is not, occasionally pulling ahead so it is more like they are following each other or walking together.

Not that Isuzu pays any mind to him anyway.

**3**

It has been an hour since the teachers herded all the students out of the building, except for Kyo and Yuki. At least, that is what they think.

Inside a supply closet, Ian rocks back and forth; probably not even aware he's doing it. In the slivers of light coming in from around the door, the boy looks pale and vulnerable, curled up into a ball and pressed against the wall. John wishes he could do something to comfort his friend, but what can he do? Put his arm around him? That's just gay, and would probably only succeed in pissing Ian off. The other options that come to mind are even worse. Although at the moment, a pissed-off Ian would be preferable to this frail ghost in gangsta clothes.

"Hey," John says pointlessly.

Ian makes a noise that sounds like "Uhn."

"You okay?"

"I guess."

Deprived of the frantic sounds of students fleeing and teachers barking orders, the whole thing suddenly seems very real. This isn't an action B-movie where disposable, faceless teenagers get killed in fantastic, ridiculous ways; this is real life, where the faceless teenagers are people they've hung out with, dated, made fun of, known their whole lives. This kind of thing doesn't happen in small towns, it happens in the big bad cities.

Why had John brought them here? It had made sense at the time, but now it just felt completely fucking stupid. He'd wanted to wait for Kyo, make sure he made it out and maybe help somehow. He could've waited outside, what did he think he'd be able to do to help? He's unarmed, and nowhere near as strong as Kyo. He'd always admired Kyo's strength, even if he never let on. "What is it with you Asians and your karate?" he'd said, what seemed like ages ago and had pissed Kyo off and gotten John stuck in a headlock for what must have been over an hour as Kyo lectured him on how it wasn't just karate he learned but many different styles with subtle differences and rich histories and blah blah blah.

Now John wishes he'd bothered to learn some of those moves. It wasn't right for him to drag Ian in here with him, seeing how freaked out the guy is now. The teachers had probably been through training on this kind of thing, must have known it was necessary to get out of here.

Something crashes loudly in the distance.

"Whadda you think the police will do when they get here? They'll have to call the police over something like this, right? Maybe they'll bring tazers. That'd be cool," rambles John lamely.

"Yeah. Maybe that's why they made everyone go… 'cause of the tazers," Ian whispers back.

"Yeah. We might accidentally get zapped. That would be hardcore."

"It might kill our brain cells," says Ian, but he seems as fascinated by the concept of tazers as John is trying to sound.

"Meh, it would give us an excuse to flunk tests. Plus we'd probably get a few days off school."

"We probably will anyway. With all of this crap happening."

"If we don't, I'm skipping. Going to recuperate from the stress via some mindless video games. Though I think I'll switch off all the extra-gore settings."

"You play Warstorm Rebirth yet?"

"Duh. Did you get to the part where you blow up the mango-flavored planetoid… _shit!_" says John, suddenly exhaling sharply. He tries to resist his urge to hyperventilate, and focuses on controlling his breathing. This results in him emitting a high, squeaky hiccup-sound.

"What?" asks Ian.

"Maybe there's a reason they made us leave the building."

"You already said-"

"No, what if it's like you always see on the news, and in movies? What if someone put a bomb in the building?"

"Aizawa? No, he wouldn't. He couldn't! He's Chinese, like Marcus. Marcus wouldn't make bombs," reasones Ian.

"Aizawa's Japanese, dumbass. And don't be racist."

"It's not racism if you say _good _things about them."

John decides he doesn't have time to argue. "Whatever. But the modern opinion is that everyone is equally out to get you."

"But he wouldn't have-"

"You want to risk it?" exclaims John. Ian only shakes his head. "Right. So, we've got to get out of here. We should go slow, and crouch to the ground so they don't see us. I think that's the official procedure." Actually, that might be the rules for fire safety, but John isn't going to say that. Ian trusts him, and he has to get them out of here before all that trust goes down the toilet.

John opens the door, checks that the coast is clear, and emerges stooped over, motioning for Ian to follow.

Things appear to be going smoothly, and the two boys make their slow way towards the school exit. First hallway down, then turn and three more to go…

Behind him, John hears Ian take a deep breath and his footsteps quicken, pounding on the floor. Stealth be damned, Ian is racing wildly down the halls ahead of him. "NO! STOP!" John roars, before he can stop himself.

That's when the girl comes running out of nowhere.

**4**

"There has to be something I can do!" insists Sharla. She is standing outside the school, with teachers and even a few police officers standing around looking important and occasionally saying things into walkie-talkies. Students crowd all over, pacing and sitting on the ground and leaning against trees as they talk excitedly with their friends. Sharla wishes they would all just shut up.

The police officer sighs and shakes her head as though she's been through this routine a million times today. "Unless you know any information, you can help by being quiet and waiting."

"That won't accomplish a thing! Do you even have a clue what's going on?" says Sharla.

"I cannot release that information-" the officer begins - only to be cut off by Sharla.

"You don't, do you?"

"Look. We are trying to get the details figured out." She fixes Sharla with a patronizing gaze. "You seem like an intelligent girl," she says, though her tone implies exactly the opposite, "surely you can understand the importance of restoring order in a crisis like this."

There are a thousand responses Sharla would like to say to that. This is a high school, how can you restore order if it was never there in the first place? And how can you solve anything if you don't have a clue what's going on? And why don't they send all the stupid, nonstop-talking kids back home? But the words that decide to pop out of her mouth are, "This is fucking stupid."

"That kind of language is not going to solve anything," lectures the police officer.

It's Izzy's fault she got in trouble, Sharla thinks ridiculously. Izzy once got all mad at her for saying "retarded" and gave her a whole speech. Not wanting to get her upset again, and since Izzy doesn't seem to mind swear words even though she makes a big deal out of perfectly ordinary sayings, Sharla has taken to substituting the phrase she had just uttered. There is an extra syllable, but it feels the same in her mouth as her tounge forms the words. _Dammit Izzy, are you even alive?_ "Sorry," Sharla says.

More sympathetically, the officer continues, "Look, we're all worried. But I think everyone is going to make it out of this unharmed except for a few minor injuries and some distress." Probably unconsciously, she glances over to where the injured students are being treated. One guy has a scrape on the side of his face and an arm in a sling, but that's the worst of it. Somehow, Sharla does feel a bit relieved.

"Are you sure these are all the students who got out?" she asks.

The police officer shakes her head, her short blond hair as unmoving as her humorless expression as she does so. "No. Actually, it's a definite fact that some of the people who got out have left, against police orders of course." Her eyes meet Sharla's purposefully and the teenager realizes she is being given permission to leave if she wishes.

"Thanks. I, um, just realized I have to go tell my friend something. She's over there." Sharla gestures vaguely into the crowd and the police officer nods curtly.

Sharla runs off at a slow jog, but she doesn't go home or even to Izzy's. She doesn't even leave the school grounds. Turning the corner out of view, her hopeful suspicions are confirmed: the security is only around the entrances. Now if only her luck holds…

The alley comes into view, and if Sharla wasn't doing the stealthy spy-movie routine, she would have shriek with joy. No one has remembered to guard the entrance here, forgotten even by the teachers. Sharla is overcome with gratitude for that one simple fact.

Sharla flinches as the door slams loudly behind her, echoing through the silent halls and sending her heart rate into hyperdrive. _No need to panic,_ she tells herself. _Just find Izzy and get the hell out of here. _

Her footsteps clack loudly on the linoleum, the kind of thing she'd never notice if this place were filled with a massive crowd of noisy people, as it always has been and should be when she's here.

The noise isn't a bad thing, is it? It will allow Izzy to know she's there, and it's not like anyone else is there to hear. There are no police inside the building, a detail Sharla finds completely ludicrous. How is anyone supposed to make a difference from outside? The idea hits her that maybe, despite all their routines and training, the police are as afraid of what's inside as everyone else. The unexplainable, strange, and possibly deadly thing inside here.

Okay, now she's just creeping herself out. But it's hard not to in a place like this and –

And holy crap, she just remembered the entire reason for why she's sneaking around in the first place. If the ghost thing sees her she's dead. Not just broken arms but all out heart-stopped, blood-stopped, unbreathing, brain-dead, _dead. _

She feels a panic attack starting up and has no choice but to slump against a wall, her head throbbing and energy suddenly drained.

A black ball comes careening down the hall, and she puts her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming. But the ball doesn't go for her, instead it passes by and continues on its way. Irrationally, Sharla goes running after it. Maybe it will somehow lead her to Izzy.

The blood is pounding in her ears so loudly she barely hears the other set of rapid footsteps getting nearer her. As she turns around a corner, a boy suddenly comes at her from the other direction. She swerves to avoid him, resulting in her colliding with a wall. Her vision blurs, not due to anything supernatural but from plain old exhaustion… and confusion. _Please, just make it stop, _she thinks, leaning against the wall and sliding down until she is sitting on the floor. She is dimly aware that the boy is running on, not even looking at her. Her breath catches in her throat as the black ball dives at him, but he seems oblivious.

From down the hallway, she sees two tall figures running towards her and the boy, although they might be merely shadows. "Stop! It-it's coming right at you…" Sharla calls weakly. "Kid, duck!" A questioning sound escapes the boy's lips as he spins round and drops clumsily to the floor, out of reach of the ball for another brief moment.

One moment is all it takes for one of the tall figures, apparently not shadows, to throw something at the ball. The object collides with the specter and splits apart, swallowing the ball like an alien mouth before melding back into its original form. The thing lands within arm's reach of Sharla, miraculously remaining intact as it clatters to the floor. It appears to be made of clay, festooned with strange runes.

That's all she can make out before her vision blanks completely. It's as though her eyes are closed, but she can feel her eyelids pulled far apart over her blinded eyes. An insect seems to burst from a cocoon and flutter madly within her chest.

She knows it's not an insect; it's her heart. The muscle pulses spasmodically and she can swear she feels her ribcage cave in, constricting her from the inside.

She can hear someone running towards her.


	7. 6: Anywhere Alone

Evil Town

Chapter Six

Anywhere Alone

I would like to thank T.I.B.E.-sway- for the review. Sorry about the long wait for this chapter, I had exams. Now that it is summer I finally have some time to write. Chapter title comes from the song _Rotterdam Or Anywhere_ by The Beautiful South. Sorry if there are any spelling mistakes in the foreign languages – let's just say Ayame's really bad at French. Most of the things he says aren't even in the language anyway.

**1**

Isuzu picks the clay pot up off the ground, turning it over in her hands as she examines it. Aside from subtle alterations in the lettering (the blank boxy shape for "empty" dotted in the middle, changing its meaning to "containing," and such) and a significant increase in weight – how can a non-corporeal being weigh so much, anyway? – the vessel appears unchanged. "Here," she says, thrusting it into the arms of the orange-haired kid. "You work for Izzy, don't you?"

He is obviously not expecting the container to be so substantial, and visibly stumbles for a second. But just a second. His composure regained, he glowers at her and asserts, "I don't _work _for anyone."

He is obviously pissed that she managed to do what he failed at. She fixes him with a look she knows to be both superior and nonchalant – she knows, she's been perfecting it for years – and says, "Whatever. Just get it to her." She turns to the two boys who had been running through the halls, who are now leaning against the walls and swinging their arms like they don't know what to do with them. The guys are obviously scared shitless, probably that they'll get in trouble. Addressing them, Rin says, "You two help the girl. Do either of you have medical training?"

"No," they reply, gloomy voices in awkward unison.

"Then just carry her out of here, get her to a teacher or one of the police or whoever the school called. I heard sirens outside."

Wordlessly, the two teens approach the unconscious girl and lift her up, each of them taking one of her arms on their shoulders and using their arms to support her waist, so it looks like she is standing except that her feet do not touch the ground. They are surprisingly cautious and no-nonsense in their task. Synchronized, even.

Content that her job here is done, Isuzu heads for the exit. The sunlight is bright and warm on her pale skin; the day seems to have cleared up. She is thankful she remembered to take the side exit. A crowd has gathered in front of the main entrance, and a few police cars and ambulances are parked on the curb. No one pays her any notice in all the confusion. In the crowd, she spots the Japanese girl she'd met a while ago. She looks anxious, but not as much as Isuzu would have expected; Like she'd been through things like this before. The fact that she is not gossiping and speculating like most of the other girls is quite a relief to Rin. It irks her that people think occurrences like this are exciting, even cool. On one shallow level, Rin can see why they'd think that: if she spent all her time in a town this boring, maybe the would also be hungry for excitement of any sort. But as Tracker for the bustling city of Leftson, she's seen her share of exciting-events-turned-disasters. They aren't cool. The Japanese girl seems to agree with Rin on this, and is watching the building uneasily, sitting off to the side on one of the giant tree roots emerging from the soil. Isuzu takes a seat next to her.

"Hey," Rin greets the girl. "Tohru Honda, right?"

The girl turns to her, huge eyes flashing in surprise, but judging by the ghost of a smile that plays across her face she is grateful for the company. "Yes. And you're Isuzu?"

"Yeah."

"Were you just… in the building? Just now?"

"I was. You saw me?"

"I saw you come out. Was everyone… were they alright?"

"They were. Well, a girl passed out, but she'll be fine."

Tohru lets out a long breath and relief visibly floods over her, "That's great. I-I'm glad. Not that I'm glad she passed out, I mean, but… you know."

"I know," agrees Isuzu. It's only now that she realizes just how scared Tohru had been. Not frantic, running-around-screaming-and-crying scared like in a movie, or merely uneasy like Rin had first thought, but really, genuinely worried about other people. That's something rare, something you hardly ever see. It seems like people are too used to reacting to things the way they think they should, not because that's how they themselves would act. This wasn't self-conscious drama – this was raw emotion. And it made Isuzu feel awkward, even embarrassed to witness something so private.

"So now we wait?" Tohru asks shyly.

"You kidding? Let's go, there's no point hanging around."

"Won't we-"

"Get in trouble? No, I really doubt it. Tons of people have left already, and they're going to call around to make sure everyone's okay."

"You're sure?" says Tohru.

"Of course. That's the only thing that makes sense – even in a backwards town like this, they've got to realize that," Isuzu rationalizes.

"Yes. You're right."

Rin stands up, but Tohru remains sitting, gazing intently at the school. Isuzu starts to walk, then turns around. "You coming?"

"With you, y-you mean?" replies Tohru, clearly taken aback.

"If you want."

Tohru smiles widely, and the honesty behind her next words is clear. "I'd like that very much."

**2**

Hands. Coming from all directions, touching her, carrying her. She can hear voices, but the words don't register. Like people are talking in another language, in another room. But she doesn't really care what they are saying anyway. All she wants is some rest.

She must zone out for a while, because the next thing she knows, she is stretched out on a soft surface, papery sheets thrown over her. She recognizes it as a hospital bed before she even opens her eyes.

When Sharla does open them, blinking a few times to clear her vision, she is greeted by the sight of the school nurse's office. At least, that's what she first assumes it is, before she spots the "COALBIRD I.C.U." sign. _Why, then, is the school nurse here?_ Sharla can only see the back of her head, but can easily identify her by the short spikes of mouse-brown hair.

_Probably to ask questions_. Sharla hastily snaps her eyes back shut; she's not in the mood for an interrogation. Thankfully since the nurse had her back turned when Sharla saw her, looking over some pages it looked like, there's a good chance she'll leave her alone to sleep. A clicking sound starts up, coming at even intervals but slowly fading out. Retreating footsteps? Sharla warily permits a single eye to open ever so slightly, then lets out a sigh of relief.

She's alone. Now she can finally get some rest. Just put the world on hold for as long as she needs.

Easier said than done. Unfortunately, sleep doesn't look like it's going to come to her any time soon; her body is exhausted, but her mind is wide-awake. Well, perhaps wide-awake is the wrong descriptor; frantic is probably more accurate. Panicked and muddled, like she's drowning in quicksand and flailing wildly and uselessly while it fills in her mouth and throat and lungs.

She is going to be found out. There's no way she can explain this all away – her carelessness has landed her in a hospital, for crying out loud. The doctors will probably know right away what's wrong with her, and tell her parents. Maybe even her friends. It will probably end up all over the school, and instead of being one of the cool ones, she'll be reduced to one of the students everyone takes pity on. Terrible. Izzy will worry about her. Sharla's stomach fills with ice at the though. The last thing she would ever want is for Izzy to be scared for her. Sharla doesn't deserve it; she brought this on herself after all. Her parents will be angry with her. Why can't Izzy just get mad at her too? It would be so much easier to deal with.

That's when Sharla remembers Izzy's disappearance. _Dammit, Izzy, where are you? _She opens her eyes and stares at the ceiling. It's white, like everything else in the room. This entire place has a papery quality to it: the sheets, the walls, the bright fluorescent lights, her skin. She's so pale and weak, with a bunch of needles and tubes attached to her. The results of her trip to the tanning salon have been wholly obliterated.

That's the kind of thing she thinks about. Never mind the disaster at school. Never mind the people she's disappointed. Never mind her best friend. All those things take a back seat to her fucking _tan. _When did she become such a selfish bitch?

Everything looks watery now – Sharla notes with dull surprise that she is crying. She doesn't bother to stop herself, hot tears landing in a small puddle near her face, saturating the sheets.

Something's moving. She squints, checking that it's not just her vision or a curtain or something. No, it definitely isn't. Her vision may be clouded, but that clearly wasn't there before. Something rainbow, floating high in the air, coming towards her. She rubs at her eyes, but the shape is still nearly impossible to focus on. Neither can she look away.

_Izzy? _The shape is becoming clearer by the second, although its – no, _her – _edges remain blurry, melding with the monochrome room, and she's sort of… wavering. Like the surface of a river.

And she has rainbow hair. But it's undeniably Izzy; Sharla would recognize her anywhere. Nevertheless, she softly inquires, "Izzy?"

"Hey. You feeling okay?"

Sharla nods, biting her lip. "I- I'm… I'm sorry…"

Izzy frowns. She looks surprised, and the effect is oddly comical juxtaposed to her rainbow hair. At least it is to Sharla, here and now; she would laugh, except that would just be weird since Izzy can't see herself. Besides, if she laughs she'll only start crying – not silent tears but embarrassing wracking sobs. "Don't be sorry," says Izzy, gently but with obvious seriousness. "You helped a lot, you did more than anyone ever expected of you. You're in the group now – don't forget that. Ever, okay? We need you."

"Thanks."

"I mean it. Now just concentrate on getting better."

"Are you ordering that with your authority as my local demon hunter?" It's a weak joke, but Izzy smiles.

"No. I'm begging you as your friend."

"Did you take that line from a movie?" Sharla says, even though in truth Izzy's words really do mean a lot to her.

"Probably. It must have stuck in my subconscious all this time. But generic cliché or not, I do mean it."

All Sharla can manage is "Thank you."

"No problem." Izzy is fading out again. Or maybe that's just sleep finally taking Sharla.

**3**

"Splendid! Absolutely splendid! Wouldn't you agree, Mine?"

"Oh, yes! Definitely!"

Mine nods enthusiastically as her boss goes on, "I do think this shall be our big break in the business! I can see it now…"

"Ooh, do elaborate, please!" she urges, although it's clearly not necessary. It's no secret her boss loves to talk. As does she, although she also loves listening. In fact, she can't for the life of her understand why some people find her boss so exhausting to carry on conversation with! Perhaps this is why the two of them are such a perfect match.

"You see, this table here" – he gestures with an elaborate sweep of a perfectly manicured hand – "shall attribute to the already divine atmosphere of this process, by means of its shiny subtlety. The crystal ball – I am thinking one of rose quartz or something of the type – shall be set right here, in order to maximize the parallels between the transdimensional planes!"

"Pardon me, sir, but aren't crystal balls a tad… _outdated?"_

Ayame sighs grandly, nonchalantly flipping his silver hair. "Mine, of course they are. That's why they are _tres__ retro!" _

"I had no idea you were fluent in la francais!"

"Oui oui! I took seven years of it in school."

"I thought I knew everything about you, but I had no idea…!"

Ayame laughs. "No one can ever possibly know _everything _about I, Ayame Aizawa! My dearest companion, you have only skimmed the surface of my inner cupcake of depth!"

"Say something in French again!"

"_Nom trois choises que tu fair allez a la matin!"_

Mine translated, "'Name three things you do in the morning?'"

"Well, I didn't really learn that many_ useful _phrases in that class, come to think of it. Would you believe that instructor wouldn't teach us the useful conversational phrases I requested in myriad instances?"

"No!"

"Yes! Not even the everyday conversational phrases, such as 'goodness me, dear Name Removed seems to be undergoing a severe glamour crisis! Is that an achy-breaky-bad-mistake-y I spy?'"

"That was an everyday phrase?"

"Well, it was at the time. You see, there was this boy whose name I shall not say in order to spare his reputation, whose hairstyle was positively _disturbing._ Surprisingly flammable too. "

But Mine doesn't get a chance to learn the details of how her boss acquired this knowledge of hairstyle combustibility, because right at this moment the phone rings. Or rather, an odd roughly spherical green thing that looks like a clump of broccoli begins to vibrate and emit the exact same sound of a ringing telephone. "So _that's _what that it!" exclaims Ayame, fumbling with the broccoli-thing. "Hello?" His expression instantly turns serious; a rare, alien look on his face that Mine has only seen in a few instances. Not that he doesn't wear it well – all his expressions are so _perfect _on his face – but it makes Mine uncomfortable, like she shouldn't be in the room. Like she's committing a theft. "Okay. I'll be there." He removes the broccoli-ball from it's place, pressed against his ear and sets it down on the table. He sighs. Turning to Mine, he announces, "I'm going to visit my brother. Will you come with me?"

His tone is surprisingly plain, but somehow, coming from him, it conveys more that his dramatic antics ever could. Determination. Hope. Preparing for a letdown. All raw, unfiltered, unvarnished.

Mine answers, "Of course."

"Now what was I saying?" muses Ayame, "Oh yes, le francais. Let's see, I also know _hola, _and _avidaz zen hosen!, _which mean "goodbye" and… something about pants._"_ Just like that. As though nothing happened.

**4**

Kyo raps on the tall grey door. Thankfully it's still school hours, meaning there are very few people out on the streets, thus minimizing the number of awkward stares he receives for walking around with a huge clay pot in his hands. He couldn't figure out how to deposit things in the OtherSpace, only how to withdraw things. According to Izzy the procedures differed considerably, and he hasn't had a chance to learn both of them.

There is no response for a long while, and during this stretch of time he looks around him, eyes wandering over the scenery. Nice houses, even though they all kind of look the same: white and blocky, with green tiles. The Izoku house is only distinguishable from its neighbors by the garden. It's filled with cacti and dry-looking desert plants rooted in sandy soil. Sparse, but definitely different and not that bad looking. Like Zen-style or whatever.

Finally the door opens, and Izzy's head pokes out, looking at him tiredly. "Kyo! How'd it go?"

He hands her the pot in answer.

She grins at him, yet still manages to look exhausted as she does so. "You did it. Great…" She slumps against the wall, her chin resting on her chest and her eyes closed. Judging by the sound, she's snoring.

Kyo stands there awkwardly, really not sure what he should be doing. If he weren't so surprised at what she's doing, he'd probably yell at her to snap out of it. Figuring this is as good a time as any, he confesses, "I didn't actually…"

Izzy's eyes snap wide open and look straight into his. "What?" she says sharply.

"I wasn't the one who caught him, I mean. It was Isuzu, that girl at school. The tall one with the long hair-"

"I know who she is," Izzy snaps. She exhales, and her expression softens as she says, "Sorry. I don't- I don't mean it, to get all mad at you like that. I'm just tired."

"I can tell."

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

"So, thanks for bringing this to me. Why didn't Isuzu keep it?" asks Izzy, running her fingers over the runes carved into the reddish-brown clay.

Kyo shrugs. "She said to give it to you."

Anger flashes darkly in Izzy's eyes, but it's so brief Kyo is sure he's imagined it. Even if not, it's probably just due to the exhaustion anyway. He had no idea using magic was so draining to people. Wearily, Izzy replies, "That's weird of her, but thanks."

"See ya, I guess, then."

"Yeah. See ya."

As he walks back to his house, he realizes he didn't mention that weird melding thing that happened between him and Yuki. Aizawa had been unconscious after Westweaver's departure, just lying on the floor in the middle of the room. The ambulance people carried him out of the room without a word to Kyo, and teachers simply told him to go home. He's not even allowed to visit Yuki's hospital room, or call him. Izzy was Kyo's only chance to find out what exactly had transpired between them, Dammit, why didn't he just tell her?

Even as the words go through his mind, he knows the answer. He's not going to tell something so weird and personal to a half-catatonic girl he only just met. And in that short time he's known her, he's gained no understanding of her whatsoever.

He continues walking, footsteps hitting the pavement, tapping out a sparse rhythm in the near silence. It feels like he's composed of nothing but bruises and strained muscles, held together by his clothes. Too tired even to think. Thanks to years of experience the pain doesn't really bother him that much, it's just something he notices. But it does make it difficult to walk home. At least he doesn't have to carry the demon-in-a-pot any more. He is looking forward to getting home and just relaxing doing something mindless.

Once he's there, he shoves a hand into the mailbox before he enters. His fingers brush against thick, stiff paper, and he withdraws an envelope.

The check from his father. He's been expecting it, like he does every three or four weeks. Sent to remind him of who he is. Sent to offer an apology, in the only way his father knows how. Sent to keep him from going back home. The weird contradiction that keeps Kyo fed and clothed and off the street.

He collapses onto the couch, stretches out, gropes around between the cushions for the remote. Once he's found it, he flicks on the television and channel surfs for a few minutes before stopping on a movie that's just started.

The film sucks, but in a sort of good way. A drama. It's pretentious and there are too many characters to keep track of. The camera guy appears to have had AD/HD and twelve cups of coffee. The scenery is beautiful. The people are beautiful. The plot is incomprehensible. To someone as mentally and physically worn out as Kyo, these qualities are endearing. The crazy plot is sort of like a simplified version of his life, minus the demons and magic and vengeful spirits and otherworldly experiences. The place he lives is not beautiful. The people he knows… well, they're not ugly or anything, but they don't look at all like the ones on the screen. Are the people in his life beautiful? It's a weird thing to think about, not something he's used to addressing so flat-out. Izzy is kind of weird looking, but not in a bad way, really. Rin and Haru are definitely good looking, more so that anyone on the screen from what Kyo can tell. Yuki too.

The topic is making him uncomfortable so he cuts off the train of thought.

The characters are clearly typecast in the film. They correspond well with the people he knows. John would be the leader; Yuki the nerd you just knew would end up a hero; Marcus the balanced, sensible one; Rin the cool one; Haru the creepy one; Ian the stupid one; Izzy the weird one. And himself?

On the screen, a going-nowhere punk was getting the crap kicked out of him.

That only left that guy.

**5**

Rin's keys jangle as she unlocks the door to her house. Inside, a few pieces of expensive-looking furniture are ornamented with dark pieces of clothing. The clothes are all folded, almost like they have been placed around the room for a specific purpose. Even Isuzu's messes are organized.

"So," says Tohru, "is your family all out, then? I don't see anyone."

"Nah, they're not out. They don't live here, this place is just mine," explains Rin.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I should have thought before I spoke…"

"Why would you be sorry? It's not like it bothers me or anything."

"Of course. I just meant… never mind." _Doesn't she ever get lonely? _wonders Tohru. It seems rude to ask.

"Are you always so apologetic?"

"Y-… yes," replies Tohru, staring at her feet.

Rin laughs, and Tohru smiles nervously. "You're actually pretty cool," Isuzu decides. "I like you." She unplugs a cell phone from the wall, causing a flashing green light on the device to extinguish. "This is what the school will call," she explains, holding up the phone between her thumb and ring finger.

"What if they call me, and I miss it?" says Tohru, worry rising in her.

"When they call me, I'll say you're here. Simple."

"Oh." She follows Rin back outside.

"You want to see Coalbird?" Isuzu says.

"Okay!"

Isuzu makes a sweeping gesture, pointing to the sky, the houses, and finally the ground. "That's it. This whole place is the same, wherever you go. If the town were a person, it would be an old man with no friends, no social life whatsoever. He'd wear a lot of purple."

"Why purple?"

"Because that's what old men with no social lives do."

Tohru laughs. "But, if you hate it so much, how come you live here?"

Isuzu shrugs and answers her question with one of her own. "How come you came here? I get the feeling you've lived more exciting places."

"My grandfather lives here – I came to stay with him. I have lived a lot of places, though. Australia, Toronto, New York. I was born in Japan, but I don't really remember anything there… I'm sorry, I'm rambling."

"No, it's interesting." Isuzu's answer surprises Tohru. She'd looked kind of bored through the whole conversation.

"Really?"

"Yeah. So, any particular reason you chose now to come live with you grandfather?"

"He offered to take me in, and I know it's what my mom would want." Her eyes tear up a bit, but she tries to keep smiling.

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Tohru says, bowing in the traditional Japanese style, probably not even aware she's doing it. She may not really remember Japan, but Japanese etiquette is deeply ingrained in her.

"I guess it's not true what they say about New Yorkers."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"That they're rude. It's a lie."

"That's so nice of you to say, Isuzu! Although, technically I guess I'm not a New Yorker anymore. I'm a Coalbirder."

"'Coalbirder,'" Isuzu repeats, like she's trying the word out, tasting it. "You know, the way you say it, it almost sounds like something to be proud of."

**6**

Every student at Coalbird High soon receives a telephone call and email notifying them that school is cancelled for the rest of the week in order to "allow for recovery from stress and to determine the consequences for those involved in the incident." The consequences part doesn't sound promising to Kyo, but he's all for recovering from stress, not to mention physical injuries.

He passes the time hanging out with Ian and John. Although they avoid mentioning the "incident," as the school secretary put it, it is obvious they're all pretty shaken up. Neither Kyo nor his friends bother to see a doctor, as the phone call had also advised all students do as a precautionary measure. He doesn't know about his friends, but he's not big on hospitals.

So the three of them kill time at John's place, holed up in the basement. It never strikes Kyo or Ian as odd to be there, amongst the sofas with stuffing falling out and the swamp-water colored carpet that has been ripped and what looks like burned in places so that the cardboard underneath is visible. Even if they both had nicer places themselves, this is where they usually come. The thing is, John's place is somewhere they can actually _do _stuff. Ian's parents are always watching them out of the corner of their eyes, the sort of awkward, disconcertingly nice people who are always asking questions like it's some sort of test. Judging by the looks they give their son, Ian must have gotten a few wrong answers. And Kyo just plain isn't comfortable with people coming over at his house.

They've spent another day out skateboarding (only easy stuff, since Kyo has a persistent pain in his side that's been impeding his movement), trespassing, and getting chased out of various places, when it starts to rain. Kyo groans, even though the outburst isn't unexpected; thick clouds have been hanging over the town in a wet grey membrane all day. He hates the rain

"We should, like, go back in, I guess," says Ian.

John nods. "Yeah."

But none of them makes any move to head back. Kyo slams his foot down on the tail of his board's deck, sending the thing jumping into his hand. The others follow suit, and with their boards tucked under their arms, the three boys walk, Not going anywhere in particular, just walking. Cold water, dyed a shade between brown and grey with the gritty dirt on the road, splashes into their shoes with each step. Kyo and Ian's expensive shoes, John's cheap Wal-Mart shoes, all look the same after a couple minutes. The teens' hair is sharpened into dripping straight points, and the droplets even cling to their eyelashes.

Kyo's typical first instinct in reaction to rain, to shake himself dry, doesn't seem to kick in. It's usually uncomfortable to be out in the rain – not only does it itch, it drains him, like instead of water dripping off him it's splinters of his own energy. But this time is different. He's tired, but not any more so than he was before, even if he hadn't realized it until now. Layers of denial and mental blocks are being stripped away, and the simplicity is an unexpected relief. It holds the promise of invigoration to come, of changes that can be made. In a world where a necessity of life falls from the sky, who is to say what is impossible? Okay, it's a pretentious thought, but it feels so _right. _

Just like that, he starts laughing. He expects John or Ian to look at him like he's nuts, but they don't. Maybe they feel it too. Or maybe they're just glad he's finally in a better mood after being seriously down for the last few days.

"Hey, we're right by Marcus's house, aren't we?" asks Kyo, looking through the rain out at a row of dwellings. These aren't expensive houses, but they are older ones, so they aren't all identical. Still, Kyo can't for the life of him remember what Marcus's place looks like.

"Dude, you're right!" John exclaims. "I'm going over there, find out why he bailed on us, What's up with him?"

Kyo only shrugs. With everything that's been going on, he hardly noticed the guy's absence. But when John tears ahead, he and Ian both start running after him, sending fat drops of rain flying straight into their faces. Stopping at a blocky light blue house, John promptly slams his hand against the door, ignoring the doorbell, probably because a simple _ding-dong _isn't aggressive enough for him.

The door suddenly swings open, replaced by a slim, middle-aged Asian woman. Barely in time to stop his hand from colliding with her head, John freezes.

The woman silently glares out at the boy standing in front of her like a statue of stupidity, his mouth hanging open and his hand an inch from her face.

"Hi, Mrs. Ling. Marcus home?" asks Ian.

She still doesn't speak.

"We're friends," says Kyo.

When Mrs. Ling finally does speak, it is in broken English. Her voice is high pitched and heavily accented, and the language sounds uncomfortable on her tongue. "Why you come here?" She looks at them accusingly. For a fleeting second, Kyo wishes he could hear her speak her native language; it would probably sound so different, so much more natural for her. He quickly dismisses this thought – he wouldn't be able to understand Chinese, he can barely understand Japanese. What could be beautiful about a bunch of words that make no sense to him?

"We just wanted to see Marcus," says Kyo.

"Bad time. You go, please."

"Is he here?" Kyo persists.

"Go away. I tell you, this is bad time. I have him call you."

"Tell him Kyo, Ian, and John stopped by," says John. He points to each person as he repeats that person's name. "Kyo. Ian. John."

Either she's got their names down or she's pissed off at being talked down to like that, because she rolls her eyes and slams the door on them.

No one talks much as they head back, aside from John calling Marcus's mom a bitch once they're all well away from the house.

When John tries to open the door to his own house, he finds it locked. As though in disbelief, he yanks hard on the doorknob several more times, and it looks like a small miracle the protrusion doesn't rip off the wood. Muttering a profanity, he begins rooting around under the dilapidated porch steps for the spare key. "Why don't you normally lock your doors?" asks Kyo. It's not like John doesn't have enemies, with the way he's always picking fights. He's not exactly polite, or even laid back like he used to be.

John grunts something irritably in reply.

"There's a guy in there. Won't he let you in?" Ian points out.

"No," replies John shortly.

"You mean, you're getting robbed?" says Ian excitedly.

"That's my step dad, dumbass," replies John.

"Oh," says Ian.

John finally locates the key, and they head inside.

"Who are these people?" demands the man in the house, not budging from his place on the couch. John ignores him and continues on his way downstairs. "I said, who are these people?" the man repeats, raising his voice.

John, who is now halfway down the stairs, answers brightly, "They're friends. You know, people who willingly spend time with you. Some people aren't too repulsive to get them."

"Don't you dare talk to me like that!" roars John's stepfather.

"I'll talk however I want, fuckface."

Ian gives Kyo a quick look that lets the part-demon know Ian is as uncomfortable as he is.

"I'm going to tell your mother you said that!"

Ignoring him, John motions for the other teens to follow him the rest of the way into the basement. Once they're through, John locks the cheap faux-wood door allowing for movement between the two segments of the house. Then he shoves a chair under the doorknob, just as an extra precaution.

"We should probably put on some dry clothes," says John, in a forced but welcome attempt at changing the topic. They find some clean stuff in the laundry room, fortunately also in the basement. Kyo selects a pair of chinos and a blue button-down shirt, and the others both put on jeans and too-big t-shirts. As Kyo peels his soggy shirt off and flings it into a corner, he notices John's eyes on him. Kyo looks down at himself, becoming aware of his colorful bruises, the majority fresh from his fight with Westweaver.

Kyo quickly covers himself up and John at once looks away, but it's evident he's seen Kyo's injury and he's got to be wondering what happened. But he doesn't mention it. Instead, he says, "I heard the school got some guy from the church to come in, like to purify the place or something."

"Seriously? Dude, that's _weird,_" says Kyo. _I wonder if Izzy or Isuzu went there to do something similar. Like, a protection spell or something. _He will ask Izzy about it next time he sees her.

"I know, huh? Some people think it was demonic or something," continues John.

"I wonder if the pope will come," muses Ian.

"Don't be stupid. He wouldn't come to a crap town like this," John says bitterly. "Anyway, it's just a rumor. Wanna watch TV?"

No one has any objections.

**7**

The Blaus demon jumps down from the thick, gnarled branches of the tree, landing on the wet cement with an indelicate _splat, _the last of the fall leaves plummeting around it like some bizarre cross between confetti and soup. The black-clad figure aims a kick at the blobby creature's head, and the demon makes no move to dodge it. The creature doesn't react at all when it is hit, aside from releasing a deep gutteral moan, probably a cry of pain judging by how the figure's foot is now stuck deep in the side of the demon's head.

_Okay, maybe a physical attack _wasn't _the best way to go about fighting this thing. _ Izzy yanks at her leg, attempting to dislodge it from the squishy demon, but it doesn't budge. The Blaus demon has a composition somewhat between Jello and superglue. It looks like something out of Doctor Who, about three feet tall but weighing at least 200 pounds, and shaped sort of like a frog or slug. It's the color of off cabbage. It moves around on four slimy, fingerless appendages, but despite its size is surprisingly agile, able to leap into trees and buildings with minimum effort.

Mentally it is a bit less adept. It takes the thing at least a minute to realize it has a boot lodged in its head. It's bulging, disproportionate yellow eyes turn to its assailant accusingly. The Blaus demon's appendages lengthen into long stringy tendrils and it wraps them around Izzy, pinning her arms against her body.

"Oh, think that's going to stop me, do ya?" challenges Izzy. "Wait, have I lost it? I'm talking to a demon with the IQ of an enchilada."

The demon turns its blobby head sideways and looks at her quizzically. It's either distracted by her words or wondering what she tastes like. Izzy really hopes it's the former.

"Not that I think IQ tests are accurate as a total measure of a person's – I'm sorry, _being's _– intellect or knowledge. I mean, I'm sure the enchilada could outperform you in a number of the tests of life." Seeing her chance, she wrenches an arm free from her cocoon of slime. A bracelet of colored paperclips adorns her wrist. Each paperclip had a small piece of metal attached, in a sort of makeshift charm bracelet. Right now, the metal charms are glowing like the flame of a candle, the metal brightly colored and giving off a vivid warm light against the cool backdrop of rain. Water droplets sizzle as they connect with the metal, turning instantly to steam, but miraculously it doesn't melt the paperclips or burn its wearer. Bringing the bracelet up to her mouth, she used her teeth to pull one such charm off, and spits it at the demon. "Fighting, for example."

The demon emits another moan as the charm hits it, reacting quickly this time. Its tentacles retract and Izzy is thrown into the hard pavement and about an inch of water. The Blaus demon shrivels up like a slug in salt, before turning to a sulfur-scented cloud of green mist.

"Oh, how sportsmanlike of you! You can't beat your opponent so you settle for making her smell-" Izzy cuts off mid-witty-victory-comment.

"Izoku. I see you're back in the game."

"Why's that any of your business?" says Izzy, eyes narrowing. She instantly wishes she'd been able to think of something more intelligent to monologue about than enchiladas.

"It's my business because ever since _you_ took your little holiday, I've had to deal with all _your _work."

"Look, thanks for helping out while I was _sick. _But it's all good now. I can manage by myself," she articulates evenly.

"Yeah, right. Says the girl who was just almost digested by a _Blaus _demon."

"Look, I did fine. I wasn't in any major trouble, and I won after all." _And if I was doing so badly, why didn't you come help me? _

The newcomer doesn't answer, which manages to get on Izzy's nerves even more than her insults. That's when Izzy notices the _other _other girl, standing a few feet away from them, not making a sound.

"Who's the girl, Isuzu?" Izzy asks.

"A friend," says Isuzu.

"No kidding, the great Isuzu has friends?" Izzy raises an eyebrow.

The girl timidly comes forward and offers her hand. "I'm sorry, I haven't properly introduced myself. My name is Tohru Honda."


	8. 7: Black Tongue

Evil Town

Chapter 7

Black Tongue

…

I would like to thank N. James The Diehard DishRag for the review. I was at writing camp for a while, and my brother downloaded a virus onto the computer, so it's taken me a bit longer to update than I planned.

Chapter title is taken from a song by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

**1**

"Why did you bring her into this?" Izzy turns back to Rin and demands of her, after politely, albeit awkwardly, shaking the new girl's hand. The new girl – _her name's Tohru, _Izzy reminds herself - looks down at her feet as she mumbles something inaudible but apologetic-sounding. Izzy knows she will feel guilty for this later, but at the moment is too pissed off at Rin to care.

"Why is it your business?" replies Isuzu with an icy glare, putting an arm around Tohru's shoulders protectively – or is it possessively? Tohru's face turns a bit red and her eyes widen in obvious surprise. Izzy notices for the first time that both of them are untouched by the rain as it gracefully curves to avoid them, leaving not so much as a soggy strand of hair. A water repellant charm. Why hadn't she thought to do that? She's suddenly oddly self-conscious of her own drenched clothing and soggy mop of dark hair.

"This is… Tracking. It's meant to be confidential," says Izzy.

"Right. And it's of no consequence that you also told someone, then? We each told one person. It's fair, so please spare us all the lecture."

"I wasn't-" Izzy doesn't bother to finish the sentence. Isuzu and Tohru are already walking away.

She glances down at the ground, where the water level is now over the tops of her shoes and still rising with each thick, clear raindrop that splashes down. The sidewalk below is visible only as a grey mirage, the distorted, upside-down reflections on the water's ever-shifting surface somehow managing to look more tangible. Her hair really does look like a sopping old mop, and droplets stand out on her pale skin. "I wasn't," Izzy repeats.

The rain continues to plummet down on her image, twisting it with each splatter and ripple. She begins walking. Each step, her feet remain mostly submerged in the cool flow.

**2**

The phone rings shrilly, jolting three teenage boys from a nervous half-sleep. The television casts flickering colors around the dark room, mutely displaying some inane cartoon involving mustachioed blue-skinned aliens. John clumsily rises to his feet, throwing the mass of clothes he's been using as blankets across the room. Kyo and Ian follow his stumbling path with bloodshot eyes. He's slow, but the caller doesn't give up; the phone rings well over a dozen times before John manages to locate the receiver, digging it out from under yet another pile of clothes. "Uh'lo?" he says, holding it to his mouth and ear with his shoulder. "Oh, it's you. Dude, hold on – I'm putting you on speaker phone." He carelessly allows the receiver to fall to the floor before rooting around in the pile of stuff again.

Reemerging from the chaos, he holds up the telephone's base triumphantly before setting it atop the television. "Okay. Now kindly tell us all why you are calling in the middle of the night."

Marcus's perpetually calm flat voice fills the room. "I heard you guys came by my mo - my house."

"Your mom actually told you? I kind of had my doubts about it," says John.

"She didn't actually tell me, but she kept muttering something under her breath about "three foolish rude boys coming to the door." So naturally I thought of you guys."

"You're too kind," says Kyo. Now that he's fully regained consciousness, the overpowering combined scent of mould and lemon detergent is assaulting his olfactory sensors, reminding him he's still at John's house.

"Aw, I know, aren't I?"

"Man, you missed out on so much stuff, where have you been?" Ian joins in.

"I've… stuff has been crazy, that's all." After another long pause, Marcus adds, "I just got home now, I called as soon as I could."

"That doesn't make sense!" Kyo exclaims. Surprised and embarrassed by the volume and amount of anger in his voice, he adds, more evenly, "You said your mom kept saying stuff about us, so you must have been home for a while. Besides, it's been _days. _So stop bullshitting, because you must have been there at some point after the… the day the school announced it's shutting for a few days."

"Look, it's private, okay?" A quality Kyo can't quite place has emerged in Marcus's voice, beneath the almost-monotone.

John has adopted the stance and expression of when he's about to punch something or someone. "Private? You know all about our private lives."

"Do you really believe that? Why do you think I called in the first place? School's closed down, the news keeps talking about some mysterious disturbance – and no one knows why! But everyone says you guys were somehow at the center of this and… I don't know!" Something twists inside Kyo – he should have known this was coming; it was stupid to assume he could just avoid talking about that day. But at the same time, he knows that if he's asked any direct questions, his head will fill with air and his mouth will refuse to work. Already he can feel it, a sensation not unlike the brainfreeze caused by the oversized frozen drinks they sell at the convenience store, and leaving a similar unfulfilling, unpleasant aftertaste. The twisting in his stomach and the brainfreeze-thing in his head are not soothed by John's next words.

"Neither do we! But we can trustKyo, he's going to tell us when it's time – and why should he tell _you _anyway? All you've done is avoid us lately! Do you expect us to just tell you all our personal shit so you can ditch us and go gossip?"

"I'm not saying anything like that. I've been your friend for years, you can't seriously think-"

"Then shut the fuck up and explain!"

"You want the truth? Fine." That strange quality continues to swell in Marcus's voice, and Kyo is shocked to recognize it as one he is all too familiar with in his own: anger. "My dad disappeared."

Everyone stares at the telephone in stunned silence, and John eventually manages to say, "Oh… I'm - I didn't mean to… is he-"

"He's alive, we found him. He just ran off for a while. He's back now, who knows for how long. Some woman named Ren keeps getting mentioned – no one's spelling it out, but does it seem like any mystery how she fits into all this?"

All sound in the room dies. Kyo stares at a small red scratch on the back of his hand, barely seeing it. The television has gone to commercials and a smiling man in his underwear proudly holds up a tube of shaving cream as he is chased through the streets by a stampede of attractive young women. Kyo feels warm air brush against his ear as Ian breathes, "So, who's supposed to apologize now?"

"Don't know. I think we're all sorry," Kyo replies in a low whisper.

"I'm sorry!" Ian says, more loudly and in the direction of the telephone.

"Yeah. Thanks," says Marcus.

"Listen, man, we're there for you. Here for you, whatever. Don't forget that." It's strange to hear John speak so seriously – not to mention sanely – about something.

"Thanks," Marcus says again, now completely back to his usual tone of voice.

"Hey," continues John, "you could come over here anytime, with Kyo and Ian and me, and we could, like, study and stuff." Kyo winces internally, preparing for Marcus to go into one of his trademark tirades about how John always assumes he has to be smart and school-conscious due to his ethnic background.

But Marcus simply says, "That sounds like a good idea. Let's do that."

"Keep in touch," John reminds him.

"I'll do that," agrees Marcus. He sounds very tired.

And with a click, he's gone, and the room falls once more into silence.

Onscreen, a too-thin twenty-something woman demonstrates the effectiveness of a new brand of toothpaste by using it in combat against hairy gelatinous monsters.

**3**

It's hard to say who is the most surprised by the fact that the four teenagers actually go through with the study-session plan. Mrs. Ling yells something at them in Chinese the first time when Ian, John, and Kyo show up at her door – John decides they will meet alternating at his own and Marcus's house. "She's keeping him locked up in there," John intones to Kyo after the first meeting at John's house. "She's afraid he'll run out on her too."

"How can you know that? He never said –"

"I just know, okay? I can tell." Kyo left it at that.

After much arguing with his mother in a language none of the others could understand but which seemed to contain a lot of angry exclamations, Marcus finally obtains permission for them to enter. Kyo has to admit, Marcus's room certainly does look like he's been stuck in it for a while – his desk is cluttered with plates, empty water glasses, and various other inedible vestiges of foodstuff. Then again, perhaps he just eats here a lot, and Kyo is only assuming things because John planted the suggestion in his mind.

Nevertheless, they do study. They probably spend more time preparing for midterms than Kyo has devoted to schoolwork in total since he moved out. Perhaps, he considers, school is the last refuge of people who don't want to discuss or think about anything more important, for people as depleted as the empty silver oatmeal bar wrappers Marcus hastily brushed under his bed when they got there. Kyo quickly dismisses the ridiculous, pretentious theory.

**4**

On the day school once again resumes, the rain has finally stopped, but the depleted sky is still as grey as the concrete square where students gather outside the building. Well, there are two upsides to the day, thinks Nurit Izoku, taking a seat on the railing as she waits for the bell to ring. For one, the grey is a nice contrast to her hair, now dyed bubblegum pink and straightened so it falls to just above her shoulders. Two, since she wasn't there the day of the attack, no one has been able to link her to it and pester her with questions. She feels sorry for Kyo having to go through that. But he must be late again, because when Izzy looks around she spots neither an orange-haired part-demon nor a large, concentrated gathering of students. Everyone is wandering about, either in small cliques or as loners. Just another day.

"Hey."

Izzy turns her head and sees Sharla has taken a seat beside her. "Hi. When did you get here?"

"Just now. Listen, I wanted to thank you for coming to visit me in the hospital."

"Hospital?" says Izzy, taken aback. Of course Izzy would have gone to visit her best friend in the hospital. That is, if she'd known her best friend was in the hospital. And not knowing this information makes Izzy feel entirely undeserving of the position as Sharla's best friend. _More importantly, what happened to her that made her end up in the hospital? _

"Yeah. I'm so glad I have a friend like you who isn't into all the gossip and stuff. I know I can trust you not to tell anyone." It isn't a question or even a threat. It is a statement. Trust.

Trust that Izzy has already betrayed. "No, no danger of that. None at all. So, you're better now, right?"

"Well, it's sort of a process. But for now, yeah, I'm definitely way better. Thanks for being there for me," Sharla says with a nod and a smile.

"No problem," says Izzy, smiling back and feeling like shit.

The bell rings, ending the one-sided pain of the conversation. "Fuck, I have bio," says Sharla brightly, bouncing down from the rail. "Oh well, see you at lunch?"

"Of course. I'll be there."

"Cool. Love the hair by the way. The rainbow was great, too."

"Thanks," says Izzy.

_What does that mean? Where the hell have I been the last few days of my life?_

**5**

Kyo walks to school, careful to arrive slightly late so he can miss the crowd and have an excuse not to answer students' questions, at least for a few hours. He ascends the steps of the building, the pressure of his backpack only occasionally reminding him of his now mostly-healed injuries. At least there's one benefit to being part demon – he heals fast. And, considering the trouble that seems to follow him around, that's noticeably helpful. Then again, if he wasn't part demon, Kyo would probably have considerably less trouble following him everywhere.

He wipes the bottom of his shoes on the ugly thick mat the school has set out by the door for that purpose. Not that he does this out of any consideration for the cleanliness of the school floors, he is simply quite proud of these shoes. They've been sitting on a shelf at his house, like they were on a pedestal awaiting a worthy occasion – and doesn't the first day back at school after beating up a vengeful spirit qualify? White skater shoes, with orange piping, and the sense that he bought them with money Shishou paid him for mowing the lawn rather than money his father supplied makes them feel more like Kyo's than most of his other possessions.

Come to think of it, he hasn't seen Shishou in a while. Maybe he'll stop by after school today.

A booming voice comes over the intercom, the feedback rattling lockers and jarring eardrums. "Kyo Hirozuka and Yuki Oy- Ay… Aizawa, to the principal's office. Kyo Hirozuka and Yuki Aizawa."

Shit, already? But Kyo accepts his summons, walking down the hallway purposefully, head held high. He's not sure why, but for the first time in what seems like forever, he's feeling okay.

He spots Aizawa, slightly ahead of him but headed in the same direction. "Hey!" Kyo calls out, jogging to catch up. "Aizawa!"

The other boy's head jerks up at the sound of his name. His eyes are wide and dark against his pale face. "Oh," he says – apparently his answer to everything.

The rest of the short walk to the office passes with no further attempts at initiating conversation. Inside, the boys are greeted by the site of ridiculous hot pink beanbag chairs, bright interrogation-style lights, and Kyo's least favorite secretary. "Please take a seat, I'll let principal Edwards know you've arrived," says Miss Carton, ushering them in with a hand adorned with far too many gaudy jewels. Kyo reluctantly takes a seat on one of the revolting chairs, sinking into the pink blob. On a nearby coffee table, a lumpy green globule serves as a centerpiece. "Mister Edwards, Miss Hirozuka and Mister Aizawa have come to see you."

"_Mister _Hirozuka," corrects Kyo.

"Is it?" Carton squints at him from behind the thick glasses that cover most of her face. "Oh, yes. Of course it is, dear." Seeming quite untroubled by her error, she exits the room, humming a buzzy, alien-sounding tune to herself.

"What the hell was that all about?" says Kyo, glaring at the green blob as though he is trying to make the offensively ugly decorative scheme burst into flames.

"Don't let it bother you too much. She's called me 'miss' before as well."

Kyo refrains from pointing out that he doesn't find Yuki being mistaken for a girl quite as shocking as Yuki must expect him to; or that he is actually more bothered by the way Cartin always mispronounces his name. She's one of those people who tries to get the accent right instead of just Englifying (anglofying? Angloizing?) it. Maybe this is meant as a sign of respect, but it's hard to be flattered when your name ends up sounding like a cross between a sneeze and some Middle Eastern country. Though to be fair, the English language has suffered by her tongue at least as painfully.

"Where do you think she's from, anyway?"

Yuki shrugs. "I don't know. France? Is 'Carton' French?"

"Do I look like I'd know?" That blob is like a car crash – so horrible it's hard to look away from. "It's either some place where the language has no pronouns or some place with really weird-looking girls."

That manages to get a laugh out of Yuki, though he quickly returns to his usual somber self.

"Is it just me," says Kyo, finally tearing his eyes off the decoration and turning to Yuki, "or is our principal an asshole?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, why would he call us here and then make us wait?"

"That is strange," admits Yuki.

Kyo sighs. "Maybe Carton just screwed up her instructions."

Yuki nods noncommittally.

Okay, Kyo has to stop putting this off. Beating around the bush with Aizawa as a conversation partner is neither productive nor interesting. "Are we going to talk about what happened?"

Yuki is slow to answer. "I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt-"

"That's not what I meant."

Kyo looks the other teen directly in the eye with the same intensity he'd directed at the broccoli-ball moments before; this time, not because he is seeing something ugly, but because he's trying to see something that doesn't seem to be there anymore. The meshing membranes. The colors with no name. The sparks. The music that transcends into vision. All he sees are Yuki's eyes, deep and mysterious as the sky. Not to mention frustrating as all hell, looking back at him from behind long-lashes, calmly blinking.

"I know…" says Yuki, "but what about it?"

"For starters, how about what the hell _was _that?"

"I… I don't know."

"Do you think we could do it again?"

"I suppose we could try…"

Kyo tries to grasp onto some sort of spiritual protrusion, blindly reaching out with all his energy. As far as he can tell, absolutely nothing is happening. Yuki's skin is really pale, Kyo notices for the millionth time. And too perfect, not like a high school student's skin should look at all. His eyes scan it for flaws and find nothing. Isn't pale skin highly prized in Japan? If he'd lived there instead of in boring-ass Coalbird, Yuki could probably have his pick of girls. Or guys, come to think of it. Whatever floats his boat. It's kind of surprising Yuki got labeled as an outcast here, he's not bad looking –

"Damn it, this is hopeless!" Kyo bursts out, slumping back in his chair and accidentally whacking the back of his head against the wall in the process.

"Sorry to keep you boys waiting." The door swings open and Principal Gareth Edwards takes an authoritative step into the room. He takes in his surroundings, gaze stopping on Kyo. "Are you alright, Kyo?"

"Fine," Kyo mutters.

"I'm sorry for my tardiness. Yuki, I was just on the phone with your brother."

"That explains it," says Yuki under his breath. Out loud, he asks, "Why did Ayame call here?"

"Actually, I called him. I wanted to schedule a meeting."

It could be Kyo's imagination, but for a moment he's positive he sees Yuki pale beneath his… paleness. "W-with Ayame?"

"That's right," says Principal Edwards, nodding, apparently oblivious to Yuki's discomfort. "In most cases I would have called your parents, but I saw he was listed as your guardian."

"Why are you calling guardians?" Kyo hears himself demand.

"Look." Principal Edwards lets out a long sigh and sits down behind his desk, on the only normal chair in the room. Staring down at his knees, he says, "I'm never going to know what happened that day, am I?"

_Join the club, _Kyo thinks.

"We would tell you if we could," says Yuki.

"Yuki. Yuki Aizawa," says Principal Edwards, making Kyo wonder what exactly he himself needs to be there for. "You've always been a good student, and as far as I've seen, a good person in general. I know how complicated high school can be, so I'm going to allow you the benefit of the doubt. But I really can't let you off consequence-free – a chat with your guardian is really the most lenient punishment I can give in this situation. We'll simply call it 'fighting at school,' shall we?"

Yuki nods. "Thank you, sir."

"And Kyo." Kyo's attention sharpens as his name is mentioned. Edwards continues, "Your teachers say you are an intelligent young man, but if I am to allow you to keep attending this school, you will have to show a bit more discretion from now on. I don't know if you were an instigator or a hero in the occurrence – although I personally believe you were most likely a bit of both. Therefore, I think it's only fair I give you the same punishment as Yuki."

"What? No!" Kyo suddenly finds himself standing, fists clenched.

"Will that be a problem, Kyo?"

"It's just…" He slouches back down in his chair. "Couldn't you just suspend me or something? Instead of calling my dad…?"

"Kyo, there are a limited number of times I can suspend you before I'm obligated by the school board to expel you. Your ninth grade record affects how many chances you begin high school with. You have two suspensions left this year."

"But if you suspend me now I'll still have one left!"

"I know." When Edwards looks at Kyo, the part-demon has the unnerving impression he is attempting to read his mind. "From what I've seen, you'll need all your chances."

**6**

"Don't hurry," she says. "If you try to force it this will be harder. Don't rush yourself."

"I'm trying, but I can't quite figure out what I'm supposed to do," Tohru admits, stealing a glance at the blackboard before turning back to face Rin.

"Just focus. Don't think of anything else. Not even the lesson – I can get you the notes from a friend, and she takes detailed ones so you don't have to worry. Just shut out the rest of the world. Here, I'll show you something." Rin reaches across the table and takes Tohru's hands in her own. "_Get back to your own work!"_ she hisses at a boy who is watching them with interest, shooting him with a withering look. He quickly scrambles for his books, making a point of directing his attention away from the two girls.

"A-are you sure I can do this, Isuzu?" says Tohru quietly.

"Sure," says Rin, "you believe in magic, right?"

"Yes, very much so. Mom was an archaeologist who studied ancient scriptures, so I know a lot about mythology, and I've always had an open mind about these things."

"That's great, because believing to start with makes it a lot easier. If you don't know how to accept it, you're going to be stunted in your awakening and development."

"That sounds… ominous."

"It's nothing to worry about. You have me here for you – I'll guide you through it. I can tell you have the capacity to do magic – you're strong."

"You can feel that?"

"All people with strong magic abilities can sense each other. It draws us together."

"Is that why you're drawn to me?

"Yes." Tohru's disappointment must show in her face, because Rin is quick to add, "And for other reasons, too."

"Oh! That's good. Thank you," says Tohru, with another of her involuntary Japanese-style bows.

"Okay, now back to what I was showing you. Try to tune out the rest of the room and focus inward."

"Tune you out also?" Tohru asks hesitantly.

"Yes. Except for my voice and my hands."

"Okay." Tohru knows she probably won't have any trouble tuning the rest of the room out – being around Isuzu has already caused her to do just that. It will also be equally easy to focus on the other girl's voice and hands; Tohru is already hanging on to her every word – she couldn't be more focused on a voice if she were talking to Buddha. Rin is holding her hands. Tohru can't tune that out if she tries.

Rin's hands holding her own.

Tohru closes her eyes to help her tune out the rest of the world. "Okay. Good, just focus like that." Rin's voice moves through the darkness like a silver river. Is that magical energy? "I'm trying to draw your energy towards your fingertips, so it will be concentrated. Can you feel it?

She can feel something, kind of tingly. Or is that just because Rin is holding her hands?

"Wow, you must be really concentrating. Your face is going red. I think we're done for now."

Tohru opens her eyes and the bright classroom lights flood her vision. She blinks. Isuzu is still watching her intently. Tohru smiles nervously and Rin smiles back.

"So, any questions?"

"No, I don't think so. You explained everything so well."

"Thanks. So, want to continue these lesson-type-things?"

"I'd like that very much!" Tohru exclaims, a bit too loud in her enthusiasm. She receives several stares from around the classroom.

"I'm glad you find the history of Coalbird so exciting, Miss Honda." The teacher, a short, sharp-featured young woman, narrows her eyes at Tohru. A few giggles escape around the classroom.

"Y-yes, I'm learning many historical facts!"

The teacher obviously does not believe her. "I'm glad to hear that," she says dryly.

Tohru is already feeling guilty for the two lies she has told today, in the time span of seconds. She knows she hasn't learned anything this class, at least not from the teacher. And she lied to Rin, too. She does have questions. More precisely, one question, one that is still swirling through her mind, at the surface of her thoughts:

_Am _I_ only being drawn to her because of the magic?_

**7**

"Yo, Ian!"

The teen jumps at the sound of the shout, each syllable punctuated by the blast of a car horn. Bright light pours over the edges of his silhouette on the dark ground in front of him. When Ian turns around, these same lights burn into his retinas painfully, shrinking his pupils to pinpricks. "John?" he calls into the red-and-purple abyss – in the intense light he can see nothing but the blood and squiggly veins inside his eyelids.

"Who else?"

"Turn the damn headlights off!"

"Oh, sorry." There is a click and everything immediately goes dark. Ian opens his eyes, blinking to clear them of the two large white spots that obscure his vision. It takes several moments before he can see anything but blackness – when did it get so dark? When things are finally clear again, he sees John looking down at him impatiently from the drivers seat of his step-father's truck, an arm dangling out the open window. The engine rumbles in the damp evening air.

"How did you get the truck?" asks Ian in amazement.

John shrugs but is obviously proud of himself. "I grabbed the keys off him while he was sleeping. Get in."

"Sweet." Ian climbs into the bulky vehicle, and although he can hardly see past the dashboard, his sheer height above the ground makes him feel less diminutive. Tall, even.

First they drive around aimlessly, windows rolled down just to feel the speed, shouting out whatever comes into their minds and mocking the songs on the soft rock station. As it gets darker John switches the headlights back on, and they roll the windows up when it starts to rain again. Ian is surprised to see John show some sense and slow down when it gets darker – or maybe he just notices it's less fun to drive with the windows rolled up and the mud on the road making them slide everywhere.

"I was looking for Marcus and Kyo, too," says John conversationally. "It's like they dropped off the planet or something."

"I'm kind of hungry. You found me when I was heading home to eat dinner," says Ian.

"Oh, sorry about that. But, hey, that's no problem. We can stop by the 7-11 and get something."

"I thought they installed alarms after you stole those hotdogs."

"They did, but I have money this time."

"Let me guess, your step-dad's again?"

John grins. "'Course. You think I'd stop at the keys when it was right there? Besides, it's his fault when you think about it. He _knows _I'm a dirty little klepto. Calls me that himself. It's not my fault if he leaves stuff right out in the open - I can't stop myself."

Once inside the convenience store, they select various junk foods off the many shelves. At first Ian tries to be economical – even if John has no qualms about spending someone else's money, it makes Ian kind of awkward – but the other teen keeps encouraging him to buy more, and by the time they're out, both of their arms are loaded with candy bars, bags of chips, Twinkies (neither really likes them, but hell, they were there so why not?) and huge containers of soda slush.

"It's raining in my Slurpee," Ian notices.

"My Twinkie is wet," remarks John. For some reason they both find this hilarious and burst out laughing. They still haven't calmed down after ten minutes of driving, resulting in soda being sprayed out of John's nose and all over the steering wheel.

"It's sorta late. I think I should go home," says Ian, in between slurps and munches.

"Hey." John's voice is suddenly quiet and serious. "That's the place where they found that woman. The one who was murdered."

"Where?"

John points to a dark copse of trees at the side of the road. "I dare you to go stand over there."

"Dude, no way."

"Give you a hundred dollars to do it."

Ian considers this. It is just a bunch of trees, and it's not like the body is there anymore. "I can just run there and come back?"

"Sure. Unless you're afraid."

Ian elbows John before opening the door and hopping down. "I can do that easy. What's to be afraid of?"

In answer John makes a ghostly _whooo-ooo-ooo _noise.

Ian snorts. "Dumbass, I'm not the one who'll be out a hundred bucks." With that he grabs his slush and begins walking.

It's really cold. Ian he zips up both his hoodies as far as they'll go. The wind still seems to cut through him. Rain splatters his face and plasters his hair down. He cringes as a few icy drops slide down his back. His shoes sink down into the mud with each step, and soon he isn't even bothering to try to stay clean and dry. Why did he bring this drink, anyway? His fingers ache with the cold.

Almost there. He starts sprinting, sneakers making squelching sounds in the mud.

"Wha-" The inquisitive syllable catches in his throat. He can't move. His steps halt abruptly despite what he's commanding his body to do. At first he thinks it's the mud, but then he realizes he's paralyzed – full-body. His drink falls to the ground, spilling out multicolored liquid onto the drowning ground.

The wind lashes at him sharp as razor-laced whips, mercilessly assailing him with rain drops – no, hail. Hard, sharp ice crystals whirl around him in a cyclone, like a violent, elemental ribbon dance. In the chaos, all he can see are different shades of darkness, which he knows should be impossible.

Then something silver.

A flowing, shivering shape moves towards him, gracefully gliding over the ground. It's a woman, he notices. Her long curly hair flies about as wildly as the air currents. At first he thinks she's wearing robes, but then he realizes her clothes are simply badly ripped.

He sees her face.

The paralysis breaks and he falls to his knees before curling up in a ball, sinking into the dissolving earth. He's not sure if she's still there or if the storm is still going on.

He's not sure of anything.

He's not even sure if that is himself he hears screaming.


	9. 8: Carbon Monoxide

Evil Town

Chapter 8

Carbon Monoxide

…

A/N: I would like to thank dishrag-chan for the review. Chapter title comes from a Regina Spektor song.

**1**

"Kyo."

"Hey, Shishou."

"Where have you been these past weeks? I haven't heard anything from you."

"Sorry. Things have been… busy."

Shishou sighs and takes a long sip from the teacup he is holding. _What is it with Japanese people and tea? _thinks Kyo. _Are we supposed to take a supply of it with us everywhere, in case of an emergency or something?_ Okay, so this isn't that strange a place to drink tea. Shishou is in his own home, after all. Although Kyo never thinks of this place as a house so much as a dojo. The building is divided into two sections – the living room and the basement. The living room, an entire floor on its own, contains hardly any furniture, and what there is is pushed off to the side, leaving a large clear space in the center. The floors are all hardwood and there are opening windows on all four walls. Shishou designed this place himself, and although Kyo has only seen them in movies, he imagines this is as close to an authentic Japanese dojo as one could construct in Coalbird. It's strange to think of Shishou actually living here, watching television, eating his meals, all the normal things people do at home.

"Just call me next time if you're not going to show up. You know I worry about you," says Kazuma.

"I will. I know," says Kyo. He's already feeling guilty. Something about Shishou's voice, the way it is soft and even and yet conveys so much concern… Kyo would describe it as fatherly if it weren't for the fact that the part-demon's own father never talks to him like this. A trace of a Japanese accent ornaments every syllable, and Kyo automatically associates it with a traveler, like how a British accent calls up images of a scholar, even though the one English person Kyo has ever met was an incompetent substitute teacher he'd had in junior high.

"Well, go change into your uniform, then, if we are going to make up for those missed lessons now," says Kazuma. He himself is already wearing judo robes, so he must have already given some students lessons today. Kyo is more than a little proud to have such a renowned instructor.

"I already did. Change, I mean," says Kyo, unzipping his long black jacket and carefully hanging it up, knowing Shishou likes the house uncluttered. Without the jacket, his flowing white uniform is visible, identical to his instructor's own.

Shishou half-frowns. "At school? And none of the other students found this odd?"

Kyo shrugs. "If they did, they didn't mention it. Most of the other students try to stay out of my way. It's not like anyone would risk annoying the Japanese guy in martial arts robes."

"Are you cold, Kyo?"

"What? No, why?"

"You're wearing another shirt underneath."

Kyo hurriedly yanks the sleeve of his robe down over where the red-and-black stripes of his long-sleeve shirt are peaking out, just before realizing how much more suspicious his rush to conceal the garment appears. "Oh, yeah. I forgot. I actually was a bit cold when I walked here. Crappy weather, huh?"

"Indeed."

"You sound like Teal'c."

"Who?"

"From Stargate. Really, Shishou, when are you going to assimilate yourself into Western culture?"

"I don't much plan on being assimilated into anything for the time being. Now, shall we train?"

"Yeah!"

No time is wasted. After Kyo and Kazuma bow to eachother, the older man immediately sends a rush of flying punches towards Kyo. Kyo blocks them, just barely, before retaliating with a complicated series of high kicks. The rain pounds out a driving, metallic beat, echoing through the roof and walls, augmenting the sounds made by the two combatants. Bare feet move quickly on the polished wood of the floor, movement as natural and spontaneous as the waves in moving water. Soft battle cries, little sounds from the Japanese language that can be understood without requiring translation. There is no danger. The ease of movement, the flow that seems to carry them like a dance, muscle memory always knowing how to react, seems to guarantee this. He is not invincible – aware of his heart and lungs and everything inside him, it's quite the opposite. Death is no longer an abstract, frightening far-away topic, it's a reality, a part of nature. But not yet, not for them. Life is closer too. He is not invincible, but he is fearless. Exhilarated. Every breath Kyo draws seems to go deeper, down into his bones.

This is freedom. There's no other way to describe it. He's entirely in the moment, all his shame and regrets shed like a snake's skin. He feels like a part of this word, no longer an alien hovering uncomfortably between planets. Breathing hard, muscles burning, he is home.

Shishou is always one step ahead of him, ready for anything Kyo can attempt. The part-demon doesn't mind. It's reassuring, knowing that Shishou will always be strong, prepared. But someday Kyo will grow stronger than him, and he will prove himself.

But not today. Shishou neatly ducks a kick, coming up in time to catch Kyo's fist in his hand. Suddenly, the ground is gone. Kyo find himself on his back, knowing what just happened but still barely able to comprehend it. Before he knows what is going on, Shishou had flipped him over his shoulder and through the air, causing Kyo to hit the ground a split-second after. Painless, but he's still effectively incapacitated – anything he tries like this will be easily blocked. Shishou stands over him, still holding his arm.

In one swift movement, he pulls down Kyo's shirt sleeve. The tight, springy fabric offers no resistance.

_Ohshitohshitohshit. _A wave of shame and fear washes over Kyo. This wasn't supposed to happen, ever. This is exactly what he's planned so hard to avoid, There _are _no options after this. He knows he's being melodramatic, but for all purposes this is the end of the world. He _can't _lose Shishou's respect. That's all he has. He forces himself to look at his teacher.

Shishou's face shows no reaction as he studies the overlapping panchromatic bruises. "How did you get injured, Kyo?" he says softly.

"I got into a fight."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"These are from different days. Recent days."

"A couple fights. I guess." Kyo pulls himself to his feet. Now that he's stopped moving, his body feels tired and awkward again.

"Are you using what I teach you to hurt other people?" Shishou looks at him hard. "That's not what it's meant for."

"Shishou, no! I don't mean any disrespect! Just… stuff happens. I don't mean for it, but it does. People get hurt."

Shishou's expression softens. "Is this about your father again? What did he do?"

"N-nothing!"

"I think it's best for all of us if you tell me."

Eyes cast downward, Kyo exhales. "A few weeks ago, I made the mistake of trying to talk to him. I finally got around to unpacking, and I couldn't find some CDs so I went by the old house, and unfortunately he was there. Things got ugly. He said he didn't want to be anywhere near me, that demons brought bad luck anywhere they went, that I wasn't human and I'd be hunted down."

"Hunted down by whom?"

"Everyone. Demons, humans, whatever. I'm starting an apocalypse."

"He said that?"

"Yeah."

"You know this is ridiculous, don't you?"

"I guess."

"I'm going to have a talk with him. He can't go around saying such things – lies. A grown man should know better."

"Shishou, no…"

Shishou smiles slightly, but his eyes are sad. "You were always the only one of my students to ever call me that."

"Must have heard it in a movie."

"But I _am _going to have a talk with your father."

"About me?"

"About his behavior."

"I'm sorry, Shishou. I've disappointed you."

Kazuma pulls him into a hug. Kyo realizes he's almost as tall as the man. "Kyo, I'm proud of you. Always."

**2**

"You know, I never really felt at home in this dimension."

Mine looks up from the outfit she is sewing. "Wow… that's deep, Aya. That's so sad."

Ayame, now taken to turning wild pirouettes in the air as he bounces on the hotel bed, glances her way. "My apologies, I missed that. Did you say something?"

"No, it's nothing." Mine turns her attention back to the cloth in her hands, sending the shining silver needle through the fabric in more precise than necessary movements. She is repairing one of her old dresses, this time a slim black one decorated with red stitching at the seams. She loves clothes, although since working with Ayame doesn't pay enough to buy anything designer, she is forced to make most of it herself. Never for a second has she considered this job not to be worth it. She gets a chance to be creative, after all, and to spend so much more time with Ayame than she would otherwise. But it's a lot more exhausting this way.

"Well, alright then. If you insist. Oh, is this wallpaper not awful? I'm going to redecorate these walls," says Ayame.

"Are you sure the Holiday Inn people will let you do that?" says Mine.

"Well, they must, if they desire to keep my patronage. This floral pattern is hideous, and it clashes with the lighting. One of us will have to go."

"Didn't Oscar Wilde say that shortly before he died? Though he might have been talking about the drapes, I can't remember…"

Ayame nods thoughtfully. "Yes, the drapes will have to go, too. I never knew Oscar Wilde stayed at a Holiday Inn!"

"Never mind. Do you really need to redecorate? It's just a few days before we leave this dimension again."

"Ah, Mine. Maybe just a few days for us, but future generations are going to be using this room, and do we not want the best for them?" Ayame's eyes sparkle as he raises a fist, as though he's leading a revolution. He's so beautiful. Long hair cascading down his back, lilac robes accentuating his slim figure.

"Oh, boss! That's so noble!"

"And Mine, you shall be my assistant in this transformation!" He places an arm around her shoulders, using his free hand to make a sweeping gesture of the room. "We are bringing tasteful back! Hm?"

Someone is knocking on the door. "I'll get it," says Mine.

Ayame follows her. "Perhaps it is a customer."

"They'd find us here?"

"Mine, you are the assistant to a highly talented psychic. We have likely established a reputation through myriad dimensions, not to mention countless galaxies."

Mine declines to point out that Ayame has only been billing himself as a highly talented psychic for this past week and a half. In that time, she has seen some seriously weird things –

but she can't help emitting a small shriek and jumping back when the door clicks open under her fingers. "What _is _that?" she says to Ayame in a whisper. She can't quite get her breath back.

"Not a 'that,' a 'she.' And perhaps a customer." Ayame turns to the thing (okay, the 'she,' but a thing is all Mine can think of it_(her) _as) that has materialized in the doorway. "Am I right?"

It_(she) _makes a horrible moaning noise in response. The sound pierces right through Mine, chilling her deep to the bone, like no sound waves she has ever before experienced in this dimension or otherwise.

"Oh, cut that out," says Ayame. "If you continue this passé cryptic routine, it will be a great deal more difficult for my assistant and I to find out what you want, and we charge by elapsed time, space, and energy. Not to mention you are perpetuating unpleasant stereotypes about your people… beings…" He turns to Mine. "Are ghosts people? Never mind." Back to the visitor. "This is the twenty-first century, if I've calculated the time/space dimensional conversion correctly. Just because you are dead does not mean you have to be so overdramatic about it. So you're a little different – that's not such a big deal. There are many well-adjusted dead people who are now leading highly enjoyable, balanced lives. Er, existences."

The ghost makes no move to respond.

Ayame sighs. "Well, whatever this is about, it will have to wait. I'm going out to buy wallpaper. What are you… eeeee, cold!"

The ghost passes through Ayame and into the room, where it_(she) _takes a seat on a chair, rocking back and forth, causing its_(her) _silvery form to sway and ripple like the ever-deepening puddles outside.

"Mine, would you mind looking after her while I'm away? Make sure she's comfortable?"

Mine attempts a smile. "Sure. What are assistants for?"

"You _are_ wonderful. I'll be back shortly." Ayame waves and flips his hair before closing the door behind him.

Mine returns to her seat, directly across from the ghost. She tries not to look at it_(her) _for fear that she will start staring. Eyes carefully down at her sewing. She tries not to think about Ayame. Is it worth it? So close to him, but never close enough. She bites her tongue, fights back unbidden tears.

**3**

Kyo is exhausted on more than one level when he finally heads home. It's dark, and the rain falls in glassy, almost continuous streaks. Half of the alabaster moon is visible over thick, navy blue clouds. The rest of the sky is so black it seems to leech light from the earth. Kyo zips his jacket up to his chin and even tightens the hood, until he looks like a black-clad Kenny from South Park. Even if he looks ridiculous, at least he'll be home in a few blocks.

It's hardly any distance between his house and Shishou's. If he hadn't met up with a few thugs on the way there, he wouldn't even have been late today. Unfortunately, the wannabe gangstas hadn't been keen on taking a rain check, and thus Kyo was forced to thrash them, albeit not as brutally as he could have done. And did do, in fact, a few weeks ago, which explained why they came after him today. He doesn't even remember what it was about, so it must have been something trite. His father had gotten him in such a state Kyo would have punched out anyone that looked at him the wrong way.

And if he got hit back, all the better.

An odd whining sound causes goosebumps to break out all over him, and chills him more than wind or water ever could. He finds himself gravitating towards the sound, leaving the sidewalk to take a shortcut through the farmers' fields, climbing over fences decorated with decaying cardboard **"NO TRESSPASSING" **signs, watched by the wide mournful eyes of cows that will probably die soon and he's running, running through the crops not caring what damage he causes as wet plant stalks are crushed under his feet and down into the mud _mud_ mud. He has to run. Static electricity courses through his blood, overriding all sense and resistance.

He stops.

Out of the fields, near the sidewalk and road. A truck is parked half on each, headlights still on. A few feet away are two teenagers. Kyo recognizes them with a start. John and Ian.

"What happened?" It's all he can say as he rushes over to his friends.

"I don't know! He won't talk to me!" says John, releasing an exasperated exclamation as he wrings his hands like he's trying to strangle chickens. He's wide-eyed and shaking as he paces back and forth, but he looks nowhere near as traumatized as Ian. Ian is on the ground, knees clutched to his chest as he sways, shakes, and rocks simultaneously. His eyes are so wide they threaten to pop out of his face, which has lost all color. Even his lips are almost white. His clothes are torn and his entire body is covered with mud, except where the rain has washed him clean. John spins around mid-pace and says, "At first I thought he was punking me, but now… I don't know what's going on!"

"Fuck off, John," says Ian quietly.

"We have to get him out of here. Should we take him to the hospital?" John says to Kyo, as though Ian isn't there.

"I said leave me alone! Don't fucking touch me!" screams Ian.

"No one was trying to," says Kyo in what he hopes is a soothing voice. "But you have to get home."

"And _what? _Then what? You-you guys weren't there. You can't know what it felt like," says Ian.

"What _what _felt like?" John's voice explodes with anger.

Ian glares at him. "The damn ghost!"

John opens his mouth, then closes it again. Even he knows this isn't the time to make jokes. Both John and Kyo know something huge happening without their knowledge. "Someone had better explain what the hell is going on," says John, voice somewhere between a sigh and a demand.

Unlike John, Kyo thinks he might know who can help with that. "I'll talk to Izzy about it."

"That Izoku girl?" says John. His arms fall limply to his sides. "Yeah. Yeah, that's a good idea. I heard she knows about weird shit."

**4**

Isuzu shows up at school early the next day, in order to catch her at her locker before class starts. 'Her' being Karen "I'm Like Really Spiritual And Shit, Like, You Know?" Lee-Jones.

"Karen."

Karen is trying to fit a backpack that is considerably too big for the small space into her locker. When she sees Isuzu, Karen's face lights up, and she hastily flattens her short brown hair down with a hand. "Oh, hey Rin!" The backpack falls to the floor and Karen makes no move to pick it up. "Like, how are you?"

"Hey. Fine. Could I borrow your notes from history class yesterday?"

"My-my notes?"

"Yeah. You said I could borrow your notes if I ever needed to."

"Oh-oh, of course. I'm just… like, I'm honored." Karen laughs nervously, picks up her backpack and begins riffling through it. "Just let me find them. Do you like my new shoes? I thought the pattern was sorta spiritual."

"They're fine." Karen looks rather let down by this answer, so Rin adds, "They're nice." Karen grins, looking both uncomfortable and extremely happy. Her shoes are black converse, patterned with yin-yang symbols for some reason. In fact, her entire outfit – jeans with a skirt over, a t-shirt, numerous wristbands and necklaces – consists of black, save for a large flamboyant purple scarf.

"Here they are." Karen places a large stack of paper in Rin's hands. "Like, if there's anything I can ever, ever do to help you again, like, just ask."

"Thanks. It's actually not for me, it's for a friend."

Karen looks crestfallen. "Oh," she says, attempting to sound casual and failing miserably.

"Listen," says Isuzu, "I think you've got the wrong idea. I don't know what you think our relationship is, but you're not my type. Sorry."

"But-but I… I'm half Korean!"

"What does that have to do with _anything?_"

Karen sits down on the floor, looking like she is about to cry. "Well, like, it's that Japanese girl, isn't it?" She sniffles. "She's who you like."

"It's none of your business. And if I did like her, it wouldn't be because she was Japanese."

Karen actually is crying now, fat tears rolling down her face. "Just tell me the truth. You owe me that."

"I don't owe you anything. Thanks for the notes."

"That's it? Just like that it's over?"

"It's not _over_, because it never _was_."

"Are we even going to talk after this?"

"Sure, why wouldn't we? Unless you don't want to."

"I… I don't know what I want – not like here and now. Like… I think I'll go hide out in the washroom until I stop crying, for now."

"I won't stop you." Rin pauses, feeling like she should add something. "Karen, you're a nice person. I hope you meet someone who can feel the same way about you as you do for them."

But it must come out too heavy-handed, because Karen doesn't respond. Rin walks away.

**5**

Apparently, since they'd spoken once, Thunder now has the idea that he and John are friends or something. "Are you okay? You look tired," says Thunder when they were at their lockers. Or when John is at his, at least – he knows Thunder's own locker is at the other end of the school, but Thunder seems to have no intention of going there.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, I didn't get much sleep last night. Something happened to a friend of mine."

Thunder is obviously concerned. "What happened? Someone I know?"

"Ian. And I don't know what happened, that's what we're trying to figure out. He had some weird panic attack or something."

"That's not good."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Sorry. You're right, it's obvious. Is he okay?"

"I… yeah, I think so. But we still don't really know what happened. He's staying home today." Last John saw him was upon dropping him off. Ian walked away from the vehicle zombie-like, looking lost on his own driveway. John waited to make sure he found the door and got inside the house before he drove away. Despite John and Kyo's best efforts to get it out of him, Ian hadn't said anything more about what happened that night.

"I have to get to class. I hope your friend feels better soon," says Thunder, flashing an apologetic smile.

_What did he _want? thinks John. He shrugs it off. Thunder is a weird guy.

**6**

"I talked to Haru yesterday. He wants to see you."

Those two short sentences, spoken quickly and unceremoniously upon passing in the hall, are all Yuki says to Kyo during school hours today.

"I'll see you after school, then," says Kyo, but Yuki is gone. Kyo wonders if he heard.

It's ten minutes to the end of lunch when Kyo manages to locate Izzy. She is sitting on a bench outside, talking with her friend Sharla, as usual. Both look tired, despite acting as animatedly as usual when they are around eachother. Midterm stress must be getting to them.

Kyo taps Izzy on the shoulder, and she looks up. "I need to talk to you," he says.

She must be able to hear the gravity of the situation from his tone of voice, because she nods quickly and stands up, leaving Sharla with a small wave. "I'll be back soon," says Izzy.

"Okay," says Sharla.

Izzy turns to Kyo, and suddenly she's taken the lead. "Come on, let's duck in here." He follows her into the alley.

Although the rain has stopped, it's not exactly optimal outdoor weather. Both the ground and air are thickly saturated with cold water, and the sky seems too low, like a ceiling that's been painted grey.

Kyo decides to cut to the chase. He's not used to formalities when he's talking to his friends, and although Izzy is a girl, he doesn't get the feeling she's into that kind of thing. "Ian was attacked."

"Ian? Your best friend Ian?"

"Yeah, how many other Ians do you know?"

"Three, actually. What attacked him?"

"A ghost, apparently."

Izzy frowns, leaning against the wall. She bends down to pick a floating blade of grass out of a puddle, staring at the vivid green stem as she twists it around her fingers. "That doesn't make sense," she says finally. "Are you sure it wasn't a stray coyote or something? We get a lot of those this time of year."

"Ian isn't stupid. He may be slow sometimes, but he can tell a ghost from a coyote," snaps Kyo.

"Okay, no offense intended. But it just doesn't make sense that a ghost around here would be able to hurt someone physically."

"Westweaver did."

"But only when spells were used to give him access to that power. Even then he had to use a living person's body to inflict harm. Did Ian say whose ghost he thought it was?"

"That woman who was in the papers. The one who was murdered."

"He recognized her?"

"It happened right where the body was dumped."

Izzy winces. "That's horrible. How was he hurt? Is it bad?"

"I don't know. He won't talk."

"At all, or to you?"

"About what happened. Not to me, at least. And he's really pissed at John."

"If we're going to do something about this, we have to find out what happened in the first place."

Kyo raises an eyebrow. "Ian won't talk, and John doesn't know."

"Then we'll find go to where it happened and find out from there."

"We?" It's not that Kyo minds helping. On the contrary, he wants to do all he can to help his friend. But it's not like he volunteered for this. Since when are the two of them grouped into a unit?

"Sure, why not we? You probably have special skills that could be helpful, since you're part demon and all."

He wants to tell her not to talk so loud, but it would be inane. No one is around to hear this save for the two of them. "I don't know if I could do anything to help, but I'll be there."

"Excellent. Do you know when the attack happened? Like what time, I mean. Ghosts tend to follow pretty regular routines."

"It was late. John said it was past midnight."

"I'll meet you there at 11:30, if you can give me directions."

"I could just stop by your house to get you."

"Yeah, that works." Izzy smiles. "It's a date."

"It's close, so we can easily be there by 11:30. And I still have plenty of time to meet with Yuki and Haru." Kyo is mostly just thinking out loud, but Izzy catches it.

"Haru," she says.

"You remember him, from the Westweaver thing."

Izzy shakes her head, strands of pink hair flying. "I'd heard of him long before that. I'm a Tracker and all, and I think anyone in the area who's had even a passing interest in the occult has heard of him."

"Since I have the whole demon thing going on, knowing his name is pretty much unavoidable for me, too. What have you heard?"

She shrugs. "Pretty much the same as everyone else. He's a ninth grader with hardcore interest in magic and… I don't want to say spirituality, but you know what I mean. He probably wouldn't stand out so much in the big city, but it's gotten a lot of concern from the more traditional religious people around here. Why are you seeing him, anyway?"

Kyo tries for nonchalant. He's not technically hiding anything, because he has no obligation to tell her. "Just wondering about some things."

"Oh." She doesn't come across to Kyo as concerned or suspicious. That's a relief, although he's not quite sure why. "Well, I hope it goes well."

"Thanks."

They head back to class, although they've probably already missed most of the period. Time has a way of progressing more swiftly outside the building than inside of it. But whatever, at least Kyo attended today. That has to count for something.

**7**

Boredom and general anxiety combine to make the remainder of the school day pass by excruciatingly slowly. Clocks ticking down mega-seconds. Like a scene in a movie, where there would be close-ups from strange angles, and ominous too-loud sound effects, and inverse coloring or whatever it's called when the colors are all intense to get the audience going. But if this was a movie it would only show the last few seconds of the countdown, not make the audience sit through so many hours of nothing happening.

Nothing but endless, headless thoughts. Starting nowhere specific and ending the same way. Combining and linking in strange ways, like a nest of snakes in too-close confinement. Biting their own tails. John and Ian. Yuki and Haru. Shishou, his dad, the principal. His mom. He has a vivid image of blood on the kitchen floor, on the dishwasher, and has to remind himself that it isn't a memory. Just a visual manifestation of two concepts he links to her. The knots of snakes shift uncomfortably.

"Great. Let's go," says someone else.

Zoom. _How did I get here?_ Kyo grinds the heel of his shoes against the sidewalk, like he's making sure it's really there. No. Not like. He is making sure it's really there.

It seems to be. Kyo tries to shake it off, this feeling. Anyone other than Yuki would ask if he's alright. He's grateful this is Yuki.

Kyo briefly takes note of his surrounding. Nowhere special. He's on the sidewalk, just like every school day when he walks home. The last few hours half-erased, leaving a surreal smudge, but that's okay. Nothing happened. As usual in this town.

Coalbird seems to be in a constant, repetetive cycle. It alternates between absolutely no excitement and confusing wannabe cataclysms. He's not sure which he prefers.

"Come on," Yuki urges, already ahead and still walking. Kyo catches up in a few long strides.

"So, you think he'll know anything about this?" says Kyo.

"Huh?"

"Haru. You think he can explain it to us?"

"I don't know. But he's probably our best bet."

"So, like what are you into?"

"Pardon?"

"Stuff. Interests. Since we went through that I think we should at least know some things about eachother. I mean, I know you on this whole other level, but not in a normal way."

"Oh. Well, I don't really know how to answer your question. I'm… not used to being asked that kind of thing."

"Well, whatever. You like music?"

"Yes, I enjoy it."

"What kind?"

Yuki considers this. "Classical is nice. I find it interesting, to be able to put a complex thought into just sounds. You?"

"Not really a classical guy. Punk rock. Metal. Hardcore. Heavy things. Guess maybe we are as different as we seem." Kyo's not sure why he threw out that last sentence, an abstract fragment of thought. But the weird thought panic thing he just had, combined with talking about music, has left him feeling whimsical. Is that the word? It's not something he usually associates with himself, or anyone he's usually around, so he can't be sure.

"I don't know about that," says Yuki. "I think we seem quite similar in a lot of ways."

Kyo nods, processes this for a few moments. Nope, he still doesn't see it. He digs his mp3 player out of his pocket, inserts the earbuds, and turns it on. "Want to listen?" To his surprise, Yuki accepts the offer. The volume is loud. It's a good song, in Kyo's opinion. The lyrics and style are punk, but the main instrument is piano. "What do you think?"

Yuki still looks serious and awkward, but he smiles and it softens the effect. "It's good. I… I like it." Yuki's response appears to surprise both of them.


	10. 9: Spitting Venom

Evil Town

Chapter 9

Spitting Venom

…

Sorry for the wait, I'm finally back. The start of school has been hectic, but now I think I can balance the time enough to update. I've got a lot of things I would like to see happen in this story, and I intend to write it out rather than leaving it in my mind to be forgotten. During these past days, I've taken the time to read over the fic. Some of the things I wrote in older chapters made me cringe, but I think I can safely say the quality improves as the story progresses, and I am pleased with the later chapters. Some inconsistencies I should probably clarify: 1) Izzy's name is Nurit Izoku, not Erin Izoku. 2) Kyo is not half-demon, he is only a small part descended from demons 3) Demon hunters are called Trackers, not Chasers.

A big thank you goes out to dishrag-chan, La spina fra i lilla, and ... (my anonymous reviewer. Just to let you know, starting with the next chapter there is going to be a lot more focus on Tohru. I've already written some scenes about her, but I couldn't find a way to fit them into this chapter).

Chapter title comes from a Modest Mouse song. If anyone knows the name of Kyo's father, please let me know (I looked but couldn't find it). I'm calling him Kaneda for now, but I'll fix it if it's mentioned anywhere.

**1**

"Is your father very traditional?" Kazuma once asked Kyo. He didn't specify what exactly he meant by the term, but a corruption of old ideas, along with misinterpreted metaphors seemed to make up the ideals of the fundamentalist groups that the young people these days (he felt so old, thinking in terms like that) usually referred to as "traditional." If Kyo's father was part of one such group, it could have provided some insight into the mentality of this man he only knew by reputation and already disliked. This man's behavior was not only socially unacceptable for modern day Coalbird; it clashed with Kazuma's personal code of ethics.

Kyo laughed, with a bitterness Kazuma hated to hear in his young student's voice. "He's really _something_," said Kyo, after a pause. "Not sure what exactly."

Now, for the first time, Kazuma lays eyes on Kyo's father. He is a short man, black-haired and bland-featured. Wary and calculating, his dark eyes seem to be scanning Kazuma as though he is reading through lines of text making up a not very enjoyable document. He is also very young.

"Sohma-san, I am glad to finally meet you. I am Kazuma."

Kaneda Sohma makes no move to respond. His hand still on the door, he seems prepared to slam it right in the martial arts instructor's face.

"I had hoped to talk to you regarding your son."

"Come in." Kaneda ushers him inside, and Kazuma gets the distinct impression this is to prevent their conversation from being overheard. It's certainly not out of hospitality.

Directing Kazuma to sit down down, Kaneda mechanically pours them both cups of tea before taking a seat himself. "Now tell me," he says, "how much do you know?"

"As much as I need to," says Kazuma, "in order to know your relationship is putting a lot of stress on Kyo."

"I would say that was really none of your business."

"If Kyo is unhappy, it becomes my business."

"As his father, my judgment takes priority over that of an outsider."

Voice even, Kazuma says, "It is my understanding that you refused to let him live in this house or even to associate with you."

Still outwardly calm, Kaneda replies "That was a matter of safety. I don't know how much you know, but I can guarantee it is not the whole story – so with all due respect, stop sticking your nose where it has no place."

"I know about his ancestry. About his demon heritage."

Kaneda's face betrays his surprise, but only for a moment. The small 'o' of his mouth is quickly replaced with a mirthless smile. "'Ancestry,'" he chuckles. "'Heritage.' You've taken political correctness to a new degree of absurdity. It's blood, Kazuma. Vulgar blood."

"It was your wife's," says Kazuma, softly.

No longer bothering to disguise his anger, Kaneda slams his fist down on the table, sending the porcelain tea cups rattling. He is visibly shaking as he sputters, "It's his own! My wife was never like _that! _She was in no way responsible for this curse on her family."

"Neither was your son, and yet you resent him for it."

"What do you expect of me? Raising children is a woman's job, and she couldn't have been a better mother! He killed her, and he doesn't even show remorse!" Kaneda's face has become dark with anger, and his shaking has increased. It looks like he is having some sort of attack.

"Kaneda, I am sorry for your loss. Truly, I am. But nothing will change the fact that your wife took her own life, just as nothing will change that Kyo is your son."

Now looking away from Kazuma and out the window, Kaneda says, voice quiet again, "He is no son of mine. If you like him so much, you can have him. I guarantee he will bring you nothing but trouble."

**2**

The two of them are alone in the house. "You stupid, stupid girl," Sharla's mother says, folding laundry and looking at her daughter from across the living room. It's the first time her mother has spoken to her since she was in the hospital. Only her father and Izzy had come visit her there.

"Leave me alone," Sharla mutters, against her better judgment. When she gets like this, her mother is not a rational person, and completely ignoring her is usually the safest way to behave when her presence cannot be avoided.

Her mother laughs like a crazy person. An angry crazy person. "Leave _you _alone. Leave _you _alone! Do you have any idea what you've put me through these past days?" She's marched across the room with heavy steps, although she is not a heavy woman, and is now glaring into Sharla's face while standing uncomfortably close to her.

Sharla tries to walk past her and lock herself in her own bedroom, but her mother grabs her arm painfully. The woman continues, "You are going to work up the money to pay off those hospital bills, or you are _not _going to keep living under this roof. And if anyone asks why you were there, _you _are going to be the one to come up with an explanation, and it had better not reflect badly on this family!"

"Like you didn't know what was going on!" yells Sharla, _You never once asked me about it when I skipped meals, never voiced any concern when I started dropping so much weight and getting sick all the time. You fucking _PRAISED _me for it!_

According to the doctors, it was only because of the fact that Sharla constantly skipped gym class that her heart condition hadn't caused her problems beforehand. Her muscle mass has been severely depleted. She is prone to nausea and mood swings, and will be so at least until she gets her weight back up to a healthy level. It's surprising, a doctor voiced, that no one noticed anything was going on until now.

_She noticed. She fucking must have. _

But that's not the issue her mother has, Sharla realizes. It's not the matter of what her daughter had been doing to herself; it is the fact that she got caught.

"This phase had better be over now, Sharla," says her mother, voice threateningly quiet. "Is it over?"

Sharla finally finds the strength to wrench her arm free. She pushes past the woman and out of the house. "It's over," she says. Her voice is quiet, low, and pulsing with rage, and she is clearly not referring to the same matter as her mother. "This is over." She is barefoot, and the pavement is so cold it feels almost like it is burning against her skin. Sharla finds she doesn't mind this in the slightest; it's a surprising relief to feel anything at all.

Standing in the doorway, her mother looks small and evil and angry. "You are coming back in the house _this moment_, or you are not coming back at all."

Turning her back, Sharla begins to walk away. She hasn't even had a chance to take off her backpack from school, and its familiar weight is reassuring. She hears the door click shut behind her as she walks, each step echoing off suburban houses and down the paved street, and bringing her closer to the vast, real world.

**3**

Apparently unsurprised by strangers like Kyo showing up at her door, Haru's mother informs the two boys that her son is with a friend – they are welcome to come in, his room is just up those stairs. The house, Kyo notices, is very clean and very white. An old-looking grand piano sits in the living room, gleaming and dustless. Although well lit, the place has few windows, as though not to break the illusion that this is a shining photo in a magazine, and not simply an insignificant, powerless component of cold, muddy Coalbird.

As they reach the top of the stairs, Kyo realizes he hears music, althought it's too quiet to tell anything more. The sound amplifies as they get closer to the door. An acoustic guitar, maybe? And someone is singing. Yuki knocks on what Kyo assumes to be the door Haru's mom had directed them towards. When there is no response, he opens it.

Haru is lying on his back on the carpeted floor, looking up at them with mild interest. His black and white hair sticks up even more wildly than usual in this position, and a thin body is obvious under the plain black t-shirt and ripped faded blue jeans held on by a studded belt. Unplugged, an electric guitar rests on his stomach, and he plays it seemingly without any need to concentrate on his movements, not even looking at the strings as his fingers – Kyo sees he is wearing alternating black and lime green polish on his nails – dexterously move along them. "Oh," he says. "Yuki." Fingers stopping abruptly. He sets the guitar in its stand as he rises to his feet, an assortment of silver necklaces clinking softly against each other. "And you're Kyo, right?"

"Yeah." Like the rest of the house, Haru's room is clean and sparse, but unlike the rest, there is a lived-in quality to it. Small sculptures and a large collection of jewelry decorate every shelf.

"Hey Haru, Haru, who is it? Who's here?" Out of some corner of the room, a small blond androgynous person has come running. Kyo recognizes the voice as that of the singing person. In fact, this person, bright blue eyes now staring up at Kyo in a way that makes him uncomfortable, seems to have a permanent singing voice. "You're Kyo?"

"Yeah. Hey, get off me!" The young blond has wrapped her (his?) arms around Kyo's torso and is launching a barrage of musical questions. "Do you live here? Are you Haru's friend? Will you be _my_ friend? Do you have powers?"

"Momiji, Kyo and I have to talk with Haru," says Yuki.

Momiji turns the wide-eyed gaze towards Yuki, but remains adhered to Kyo. "It's a private matter," adds Yuki. Still no release for Kyo.

Haru intervenes. "Hey, Momiji. You should probably be getting home soon."

Momiji's ears perk up. Literally. A pair of white rabbit ears have sprouted from under the fluffy blond hair, and the strange, small person exclaims, "Oh my goodness! Haru, you're right – Momo will miss me if I'm late! Thanks for having me over!" Momiji grabs a brown jacket off the doorknob before vanishing in a soft _poof _of glittering pink smoke.

Turning to Yuki, Haru says, "Momiji wouldn't have caused you any problems." His voice makes Kyo think of the wind blowing through fall leaves.

"I know," sighs Yuki, "but I don't feel comfortable bringing anyone else into this. And I want to get this whole thing sorted out as soon as possible."

"Hey!" says Kyo. "Nobody's explained to me what the hell just happened."

Perpetually calm, Haru answers him. "That was my friend, Momiji. He's from an alternate universe, but he comes to visit here sometimes." Aside from the whole Westweaver thing, this is the first instance Kyo's seen any evidence that Haru's got any real connection to the supernatural. He finds the concise familiarity with which Haru addresses the subject comforting; it's easy to forget the white-haired boy is only 15. Sitting down cross-legged on the floor, Haru says, "I'll need to know the details of how you guys fit into the demon world."

Kyo hates talking, or even thinking, about these things, but something about Haru makes him push the words out of his throat. It's not as bad, saying this, as he'd dreaded, but it leaves him feeling drained, like his insides are nothing but air.

Haru and Yuki listen, silently, occasionally nodding to encourage him. He's part demon, he tells them, on his mother's side. What fraction exactly is impossible to determine, but the demonic powers only manifest every tenth generation. His parents had been aware of the curse, but convinced that the demonic blood would have become so diluted by this generation so as to have no effect on their child, they had decided to keep the baby when she became pregnant. Unfortunately, they were wrong about him being unaffected by the curse, and had grown to resent him for it. He doesn't even know what kind of demon it is – probably a generic cat demon. At any rate, it has no telekinetic powers whatsoever. Nothing like that weird shit had ever happened before, not to him or to any of his ancestors that he is aware of. So… yeah, that's all he's got to say.

Now it's Yuki's turn. The quiet boy takes a deep breath. "You've probably assumed that I'm like you, Kyo," he begins. "Well, I'm not. In my family, demons are not reviled, but revered. It is not my demon ancestors that have caused me problems, but my human ones. I am exactly one half Chronorien demon, and I am dying because of it."

**4**

The party sucks. Izzy watches from the sidelines as the crowd of teenagers pulse in rhythm to the loud rap music, and downs her third beer. She's in the living room of some guy she doesn't even know, while his parents are out of town. This isn't her kind of place. Maybe she would have been able to ignore the uneasy feeling and give herself in to the flashing lights of the cheap, slightly broken faux-disco colour beam generating maching, the beat of the music she's never heard before, the combined energy of a crowd mainly composed of strangers, but today she can't seem to loosen up. Every muscle in her body seems tense, and her senses alert despite the alcohol. Sure, she can hold her liquor, but this is ridiculous. She reaches for a fourth can, then decides against it and sticks her hand back in the pocket of her black skinny jeans.

That could be another reason she's uncomfortable. The other girls here are dressed in miniskirts and low cut tops, or else in expensive looking dresses they must have bought at Leftson Mall; Izzy is wearing a red T-shirt with a suit jacket over. Girls who actually have succeeded in getting drunk keep coming on to her.

_At least I'm being mistaken for an _attractive_ guy, _she thinks, her empty can landing in the garbage bag with a flash of silver and a soft clink._Or lesbian. _But since, as her brother often complains, the town is overwhelmingly heterosexual, she rather doubts it's the latter.

To make things worse, Sharla didn't show up. Not that Izzy has any right to blame her.

As she's heading towards the door, a strong hand grabs her by the shoulder. "Hey, where you goin'?" slurs a muscular and very inebriated boy with short blond hair.

"I'm leaving."

"No… yur not!" he insists, trying to grab her with his other hand.

Izzy shoots him an irritated glance, catches his arm, and flips him onto his back. He lands with a crash on the dirty floor, face contorting with pain.

With a bitter taste in her mouth, Izzy leaves the building.

The alley outside is cold and muddy in the shadows of tall, slightly rotted fences. The sky above is navy blue streaked with red, the moon high and faint. The wind, tossing her short strands of pink hair about wildly, carries with it the faint scents of pine and asphalt and wet dirt.

A perfectly ordinary place, on a perfectly ordinary evening, right? So why, then, can't she relax? Pushing her mysterious unease aside, she checks her watch – it's around five. Still early, still plenty of time before Kyo shows up, but she might as well get home as soon as possible. She can search the net for any information she can find regarding ghosts and the murder of that woman. Terribly morbid, but it might prove useful.

Rounding a corner, she hears voices. Though she strains her ears, she can't make out the words, but there seem to be a lot of them, all overlapping, and they're coming from behind one of the fences. She's not sure what compels her to jump, grab onto the top of the vertical wooden planks, and pull herself up so that she can see over. On the other side, a large group of young men clad in old-fashioned-looking suits congregate, their pale faces intensely serious. The men all have the same unusual shade of red hair, tied back in ponytails. With a start, Izzy realizes the figures are all identical. There are far too many of these guys for them to be identical siblings, their costumes too authentic for them to be a weird new subculture – this is something supernatural. This is _her _business. More by reading lips than by her hearing, she finally succeeds in catching a few words, spoken in the curiously accented, soft, low voices of the strange men.

"…building up…"

"…spell…"

"…unraveling…"

"…time…"

"…it's time…"

"…_it's time…"_

"Is it?"

"It's time."

_Crr-ack…! _Before she knows what is happening, the flimsy fence splinters under Izzy's weight, and she is in an awkward face-down position, covered in mud and surrounded by bits of wood. One of the more formidable pieces of debris has buried its sharp point in her upper arm. She pulls it out in one quick, painful movement.

When she looks up, she is surrounded by the red-haired men. Simultaneously, they smile, revealing mouths full of too many rows of long, pointed, and very-white teeth. Their red eyes seem to burn into her.

Definitely not human.

"Well," says one of them, calmly, "how much did you hear?"

"Enough to know you're planning something," says Izzy.

Another of the creatures laughs. "Dear, we have no need to plan _anything. _Every thing we crave is being handed to us on a silver platter." From the hungry way he eyes her, it seemed he accounts on Izzy being the appetizer to that.

He grabs her roughly by the shirt, lifting her into the air with surprising strength. She isn't short, but these guys must be at least six and a half feet, and despite a wispy-looking build, this one possesses a surprising strength she doesn't doubt the others share. With his other hand, the creature traces a long, thin finger down the skin on her arm, exposed through the rip in her blazer, where the wood had stabbed her. She now sees that a considerable amount of blood is flowing from the wound, trailing down her arm like a river, steadily dripping off her fingertips. It stings like crazy, and she flinchs when he touches her, as much from the stinging as from the coldness of his smooth skin.

The creature examines his finger, covered in her blood, as though it is a scientific specimen. To Izzy's disgust, he opens his white-razor-blade-toothed mouth and licks the bloody finger with a blue-black tongue. A few drops stain his pale lips, painting them a deep red, which contrasts sharply with his sheet-white skin.

"Now, now," one of the creatures chides the one who is holding her, "don't waste. We can use her later."

It is at this moment that Izzy suddenly becomes aware of the weight in her other hand, where her fingers are, on their own accord, tightly curled around something. Looking down, hopeful but trying not to seem excited lest the creatures notice and confiscate her only weapon, she sees the piece of wood that caused her injury in the first place. Sharp as a stake. She's not sure what these creatures are, but they seem vampiric - and even if not, can't go wrong with a big pointy thing, right?

She goes limp, trying to appear defeated. She's shaking, but the creatures have no reason to find this strange – she's cold. And, plan or not, she's scared. The thing lifts her higher, allowing a better view of her to those of his kind on the farther reaches of the circle. It's impossible to count how many of them there are. He reaches into the pocket of his suit with his free hand, and she feels its uncomfortable grip on her loosen slightly.

This is her chance. With all her strength, she gives a swift jerk using what feels like all her muscles. She kicks out, hitting the creature in the chest and sending it stumbling backwards, just as the aftershock propels her away from him and into the air – out of his grasp.

She somehow executes a perfect landing on the muddy lawn, hitting it feet first and absorbing the impact by bending her knees – just in time to avoid the sweeping grab of another of the redheads. Before she can see what happened to the first one, she's turned around to face this identical opponent. He smiles grimly, as though to say, "This will be harder than I expected, but I can manage." She kicks his shin, but it seems that without the element of surprise she is useless in a fight. _If only I'd brought some protection charms with me! _She has some spoken incantations memorized for situations like this, but they've all flown from her mind. The thing places a hand on her shoulder, fingers tightening cruelly. Long, claw-like nails tear through fabric and bite into her skin, and the bones in her shoulders are under such pressure that they seem to be bending. His smile widens, revealing those awful teeth again. He raises her hand – the one without the stake – right up to those bloodless lips. His head tilts forward as he bites her. A sharp chill runs through her, as though replacing her lost blood with ice as it is sucked out of her.

Desperately, she draws back her other hand, fingers clenched white-knuckle-tight on the piece of wood, which now looks rather pathetic, and brings it forward, burying it right where the thing's heart should be. There is no blood, nor any reaction. Her hand still on the stake, she pulls back on it, and it comes free easily.

The creature is hollow. The epidermis is no thicker than paper, and from what she can see from the light entering the small hole, is suspended by a framework of bones. Her survival instincts overpowered by curiosity, she can't tear her eyes away from the white rib cage. And right where the heart should be…

A rock? A grey stone, no different in appearance than the small, smooth stones that rest at the bottom of the irrigation ditch nearby, hangs unbeating and apparently unsuspended within the thing's chest.

With a thin, bloodstained smile, the thing releases her hand and takes a step back. Before she can react (not that she has any inkling what she could have done), the wind picks up, and the things have disintegrated in a whirl of dead leaves.

As though to make up for the time she'd forgotten to breath, Izzy begins to hyperventilate. She looks down at her ruined clothes, ripped and stained with blood – all her own. She's dizzy, but it passes. Focusing on the stinging in her arm, she walks home, resolving to get right to researching whatever those things were the moment she can get on her computer.

**5**

The wind outside sends tinny echoes through the chimney as inside Rin logs onto the computer, and with a few deft keystrokes arrives at the sites she is keeping an eye on. She scrolls through the text, and is disappointed but not surprised to see that there's been no new activity worth noting. The basic gist of the word on the Tracker grapevine is that something strange is happening, and Rin's already known that for some time. Closing her laptop, she proceeds to check her phone. Three new messages.

"Hello. You have been selected to participate in-" She presses the delete button without needing to hear the rest of what the overly cheerful male voice has to say. Should have known it would be mostly junk. As the next message begins to play, a cool, slightly deep female voice fills the room. Very serious, but not quite a monotone. She also sounds quite young, but it's hard to tell over the phone.

"Hello. We thought it would be of interest to you that a demonology conference is to be held in Leftson. The address is as follows:" Isuzu quickly locates a pen and paper and takes note of it. "…and it shall be held this Friday, starting at 5:00 PM. We hope you can come, Isuzu Takahashi. Thank you."

Rin knows from experience that the value of the information obtained at these types of events varies greatly, but generally it's a good idea to at least check them out. This seems to be one of the groups that take themselves more seriously – no tacky webpage that could be accidentally found by anyone with a casual interest in the supernatural. At best, that means the conference will be free of geeky young people who think they are involved in some kind of role playing game. At worst, it means a bunch of old men using big words to disguise the fact they have no clue what's going on.

Last message. "Yo. This is… well, you can probably tell who this is. You want to come to Leftson and hang out sometime? I haven't heard from you in a while… everything okay? Don't mean to sound like the overprotective friend, but where are you? Um… yeah, bye."

Isuzu sighs, hits the call back button. A teenage girl's voice responds on the other end. "Yo, Ali speaking."

"It's Ali now?" says Rin.

"Yeah. What are you implying?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, it suits me more than Alice," she says, making a disgusted noise.

"Alice isn't bad," says Rin.

"I know, it's just… it's not _me_. You don't know what it's like – you have two cool names and I can't even come up with one."

"Tragic. So what was with the call?"

"Oh, that. It was probably weird, huh? Don't read too much into it, I was kind of in a weird mood – it just feels like everyone's drifting apart lately, and it was getting me down." Her voice brightens. "But I'm glad to hear you're okay."

"Of course I am."

"Yeah, of course."

"Did you get an invite to the conference?"

"Uh huh. You too?"

"Yes."

"You going?"

"I plan to."

"Cool. So I'll see you there."

"Do you know if we can bring guests?"

"I think so. Yeah, I'm sure you can. I've been to one hosted by these guys before, and they let you. Why? Someone you'd like me to meet?"

"Exactly."

**6**

Chronorien demons. Everyone in the demon universe is familiar with them. As Yuki said, they are renowned, and like most of the more powerful demons, they are virtually impossible for someone who isn't one her or himself to understand. They are what ancient civilizations would have called demigods.

Demon is a blanket term, referring to most living creatures from parallel universes. There is great variation in demons, and although terms like good and evil may carry with them vastly different connotations across the many universes, the inhabitants of the vast majority of these universes (at least that humans have explored) agree that demons such as the Chronorien are not only extremely powerful, but extremely intelligent. They are time demons, and as such deal with a realm that human (and most demon) minds are not equipped to understand. Since they are intelligent and do not seem to cause problems, if whatever authority in the Chronorien demon realm permits it, they may travel to other universes, including this one, and live freely so long as they obey the rules of the society they have become part of and do not interfere with history.

Of course, humans would not be able to tell if the Chronorien demons had made even monumental changes to their universe, so this treaty is really just a formality. Essentially, humans are powerless against Chronoriens, and anyone involved in the supernatural world leaves these demons alone to avoid the devastating consequences that would no doubt arrive out of conflict with them.

On the opposite end of the spectrum are demons such as the Blaus variety. Rather than think, it simply reacts. With no powers aside from the physical variety (its strong jumping ability, gelatinous and difficult to damage skin, and heavy weight allow it to land on and flatten prey), the Blaus demon seems to exist for no other reason than to continue existing. Since it has neither the power nor the intelligence to transfer itself between universes, the Blaus demon tends to either inadvertently wander through portals or be sent over by more intelligent demons in order to cause trouble, as Blaus demons leave a trail of destruction anywhere they go.

An untold number of demons exist between these two extremes, and there are also demons that go even farther towards the edges of the spectrum, such as amoeba-like creatures in an impressive range of sizes, which do not think at all and barely react, and being which function (on many various levels) in ways which cannot at this time seem to be translated into terms possible for human beings to understand.

This is why only extremely knowledgeable and powerful humans are permitted to travel between these universes, and to try to do so without permission is severely punished by the authorities in these matters, despite the miniscule probability of these unauthorized attempts having any sort of success.

Trackers are appointed mostly as pest control. They keep the general public safe from having to worry about Blaus demons nesting in the sewers or the small, fox-like Dashon, a kind of frost demon, ruining crops and poisoning cattle (or unfortunate locals who happen upon it) with its venomous bite.

Of course, Trackers sometimes deal with other supernatural issues, such as ghosts and disgruntled mages, since they are knowledgeable on such supernatural issues and able to defend themselves, although higher authority has been known to intervene if things get out of hand. Most Trackers have very little notion as to what exactly this "authority" refers to, and most never need to.


	11. 10: Soil, Soil

Evil Town

Chapter 10

Soil, Soil

Author's Note: Okay, last chapter didn't get any reviews. Um… guys? Where did you go? I'm really sorry it took me so long to post the last one, but I'm back now, really. Reviews are what motivate me to write, and if no one reviews, then it's hard for me to continue stories, since it seems kind of pointless if no one reads them. If you are reading this, please take a moment to open the little review box at the bottom of the screen and submit something. Criticism and praise are both welcome, and even just a few words would make my day.

Chapter title comes from a Tegan and Sara song.

**1**

"It's okay, you know," says Sharla. She's lying on top of the covers of Izzy's bed, staring at the wall across from her. "You don't have to supervise me." Her voice shows no emotion. Damaged. Dead.

"I-I wasn't," says Izzy. "I just wanted you to know I'm here."

Sharla smiles weakly. "I know."

With a bundle of black clothes under her arm, Izzy says, "I'll be back in a minute. I'm just going to shower and change."

Sharla might give a small nod, but Izzy isn't sure.

In reality, Izzy takes much longer than a minute. Locking the washroom door behind her, she removes her mostly ruined, muddy clothes, tossing them into the corner, and steps into the shower. The hot water cascades over her, warming through her skin. When she had been around those vampire things, it felt like she would never be warm again. Just the thought of it chills her, so she pushes it from her mind, although she knows she'll have to go back to it soon. But there are other, equally (if not more) confusing things to be sorting through now.

She had been worried about catching hell from her mom upon returning home, covered in mud, clothes ripped. And injured. Her mom wouldn't mention the last one, but worry for her daughter would be the driving force behind her rage. It always was. Like a lot of people in her life at this point, her mom, Lihi Izoku, is not shy about letting Izzy know just every detail of how she is failing as a Tracker. The difference is, Lihi insists this is a matter of not studying enough, rather than inert unsuitability for the job. Of course, she claims the same thing regarding Izzy's chemistry grades (which Izzy herself suspects to be inversely proportional to the amount of time she spends studying, although her mom rejects this explanation).

But when Izzy stepped through the door, rather than already standing there glaring at her, Lihi was seated at the kitchen table, talking with… _Sharla? _

"Nurit," her mother acknowledged, like there was nothing strange about her daughter coming home covered in mud. "Sharla, you seem cold. Why don't you go take a warm shower and I'll find you some clothes to change into." _That's her cure for everything, _thought Izzy. _A shower and a change of clothes. _Wordlessly, Sharla left the table.

"Sharla is going to be staying with us for a while," said Lihi. The fact that she said this in English, rather than her native Hebrew, was strange in itself.

"How long?" asked Izzy.

"She doesn't know. But there's nowhere else she can go."

"_What happened?"_Izzy slipped into the Hebrew language herself without even realizing.

Lihi simply shook her head.

Izzy had gone to her room and attempted to research her assailants on her computer. She's not so good at research. Even without all the confusion going on in her mind, she probably wouldn't have turned anything up. Sharla came into her room after what felt like only seconds spent surfing the net. She was wearing a pair of rainbow boardshorts and an oversized purple hoodie. Izzy's brother's clothes. So different from Sharla's usual style that Izzy would have laughed if she wasn't so worried. Sharla lay down on the bed without saying a word.

The water washes the mud and blood from her body, dyed various shades of red and brown as it falls around her feet.

After she's gotten as clean as she's going to get, she emerges, wrapping a towel around herself, and takes a long look in the mirror. The dirt has washed off, revealing an array of bruises on her arms. Like a camouflage pattern but the wrong colours. Her hair hangs down in angular, half-dry clumps. She's relieved to see that her cuts and scrapes are shallower than she originally thought they were. Nothing here that will be noticeable in a week or two.

She notes that her skin looks a bit darker, even where it isn't bruised. She's always been ususually pale, but now her skin tone stands out against the white towel. Maybe some of the dirt got into her skin. She doesn't mind. It's kind of interesting.

After putting on her clothes, she goes to check on Sharla.

The other girl hasn't moved. Hasn't even directed her attention away from the wall.

"You… want anything?" says Izzy.

Instead of answering, Sharla says, "What were you looking up before?"

"Oh, um, you know, Tracker stuff. Didn't find anything useful, though."

"Can I try?" Sharla sits up, dangling her legs over the side of the bed.

"Sure, if you want."

Taking a seat in front of the screen, Sharla says, "I'm good with computers. Could you be more specific about what I should look for?"

Trying to make it sound more like a casual annoyance rather than the freaky ordeal it had actually been, Izzy tells her about the red-haired things, omitting or toning down the details that had scared her most. _Those things they said… about something coming. And the way they said it… I was sure I would die._

Sharla listens silently. When Izzy is done, she says, "And stuff like this happens often? You getting attacked?"

"Yes," says Izzy. She isn't going to outright lie.

"And you don't have a choice? You have to go through this?"

"It's an honor," says Izzy, "to have such responsibility."

Sharla nods. "I can see that. But it also seems like it would be a pain sometimes, not to have a normal life."

Something about those words coming from her friend, considering the situation, is heartbreaking. "It's not that bad," says Izzy. "And if I ever wanted, I _could _quit, as long as I found someone to take over for me."

She watches as Sharla's fingers fly across the keyboard, movements as fast and natural as the graceful dance of an experienced pianist's playing. The rapid-fire clicking noises are a soothing alternative to the awkward silences that had previously dominated the room.

Sharla sighs. "There's like a jillion results. It's going to take me a while to sort through these."

"How…"

Sharla smiles at Izzy's unfinished question. "You just gotta know where to look."

**2**

After providing this blunt explanation of his state, Yuki abruptly exits, leaving Kyo standing in Haru's room, wide-eyed and at a loss for words.

Haru notices this. "Yuki's stronger than he seems. You don't have to worry about him."

"He tried to use an evil ghost to kill me," says Kyo, though he and Haru both know Kyo's own health is not what he's worried about.

"He got over it," says Haru. "Speaks quite favorably of you now. And he didn't want to kill you – just to do something that would make him the powerful one in your relationship."

Kyo really doesn't like that phrasing, but he lets it go. In the short time they've known each other by more than reputation, Kyo's learned that Haru is always saying weird things. "Is it true what he said? Is he really dying?"

After several long moments, Haru says, "Hopefully not. But it's a possibility – there's a reason humans and Chronorien demons don't usually have children together. Yuki and I have been working on a way to try and get around this for years, but still haven't come up with anything definite."

"How long can he live like this?"

"Until he's an adult, there shouldn't be any physical danger to him."

"So two years, when he turns 18?"

"Give or take a few years. This is medically speaking, not culturally – people mature at different rates." Haru's voice is still soft, but beneath the usual unreadable tone, Kyo can tell he is deeply troubled by this. It's not hard to see why. For a 16-year-old, 'give or take a few years' does not bode well. Haru's words suddenly lack any trace of his vague, half-joking speech patterns.

"Hey, let me know if you think of anything I can do. Seriously, being part-demon might come in handy for once," says Kyo.

He is about to leave when Haru suddenly asks, "Can I have your number?"

"Yeah, no problem." He writes it down on a school notebook that is open to a blank page on Haru's desk. "You have to be able to contact me if you think of anything about Yuki, or about that mind-meld thing." Haru had still been unable to come up with an explanation for that, despite taking into account Kyo and Yuki's demon traits, but he promised to look into it.

"Yeah," says Haru. "Or, you know, whatever."

Kyo walks over to Izzy's house, barely aware of his surroundings or even of the fact that his feet are moving beneath him. He seems to have lost all sensation. Yuki's words bounce through his mind, as loudly and as clearly as though he is listening to them through earbuds at maximum volume, the way that's supposed to deafen people.

When Izzy answers the door, she looks as shaken up as he feels. "You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah. Let's do this."

When they get to the ditch, it's already dark. Izzy is prepared with a pair of flashlights, and the twin beams of light reflect off the wet grass, sending rays of light darting around like insects. In each gust of wind, he hears Yuki's words with startling clarity.

_"Like a real Chronorien demon, I have the ability to time travel."_

To his disgust, it's started to rain again. But just a drizzle, maybe it will stop.

_"But if I were to use this ability, my body would not be able to stand the stress."_

He shivers as the icy drops hit the back of his neck.

_"Humans are not meant to change the past."_

"You okay?" says izzy.

"_Even without time traveling, I am growing up with a mix of human and Chronorien traits which cannot mutually exist."_

"Yeah," says Kyo. "You?"

"Sure."

"What exactly are we looking for?"

"I'm trusting that we'll know when we see it. Your friend had a pretty hard-to-miss experience, right?"

Kyo thinks back to Ian, sitting on the ground, clutching his knees and rocking back and forth. "Yeah."

But this time, nothing is quick to jump out at them. The rain doesn't let up, and small droplets fall with increasing, determined frequency, making soft noises upon colliding with the dark grass. Soon the two teenagers' clothing is heavy as lead aprons.

He turns in a circle, scanning his surroundings. He's walked by here countless times, but he knows it is never going to be the same to him. Road, path, grass, weeds, trees. They all take on sinister forms now, obscured by shadows and connotations. If there's anything to see, it won't be out in open view beside the road, so Kyo decides to look over by the trees, not hopeful about finding anything.

_"A half-human heart cannot pump half-Chronorien blood for long."_

"Shit!" he exclaims as something sends him stumbling. Only by grabbing onto a tree trunk does he manage to avoid landing face-first in mud. As he reaches to pick up his flashlight, he notices the beam is pointing directly at the object he has tripped over, casting a long shadow through the bluish-white glow. "Hey, Izzy! Come look at this!"

Her footsteps are loud on the wet grass. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure. But there are a lot of them."

And there are. The object is one in a series, two sticks probably broken off the nearby trees, tied together with red thread to form a cross. These crosses vary in size from about a decimeter tall to a half meter. All have been stuck firmly into the ground, pointing straight up, and all have been tied with red thread.

"It looks like a memorial," says Izzy.

"If it is, it's kind of sick to build it where she was dumped. Can't they just leave flowers on her grave?"

"Maybe this was independent." Kyo isn't entirely sure what that's supposed to mean. It sounds like something she'd say about a piece of music to excuse its weirdness.

"I wonder why the red string," Izzy says, mostly to herself. "Something Kabala inspired?"

"Kabala and _crosses?_"

"Hey, you never know. There are all kinds of religious movements."

"Could this be part of a spell?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "Doesn't look like it."

"Then why is she coming back from the dead?"

"Beats me."

**3**

The next day at school, Ian has returned but still refuses to talk to John. John is not used to being ignored by his friends, and finds it profoundly disturbing. He goes to Kyo numerous times for advice, but ends up talking to himself, as Kyo's thoughts are occupied with other matters. This is the day his father is supposed to come, and whether he does or not, Kyo is screwed. If the man decides to show, he'll probably be in full support of Kyo getting the harshest punishment possible so long as he doesn't have to be involved at all. If he doesn't, the principal will probably assume Kyo told him the meeting had been cancelled or something.

"So, now I'm fucked, basically," John concludes his rant. He'd been talking very fast and obviously going in circles, but aside from the fact that Ian still isn't talking to him, Kyo didn't glean much from the monologue.

_Yeah, _thinks Kyo, _that pretty much sums up my situation, too. _

Towards the end of second period, he is called out of class. It seems they have chosen to separate him and Yuki this time, and he spends ten minutes sitting in the office with the principal. Kyo is the first to admit he has issues with authority figures, and he responds to any attempts the principal makes at small talk with obligatory monosyllable responses.

A harsh buzzing noise cuts through the room. "Ah, it seems your guardian has arrived," pronounces the principal, rising to answer the door.

The words slip out. "Oh shi… _Shishou?_"

Kazuma nods casually towards Kyo upon taking a seat beside him. "Hello, Kyo."

To Kyo, the principal says, "Mr. Hirozuka, I need to speak privately with your guardian for a moment. You're dismissed to lunch hour."

Dreamlike, Kyo walks out into the hall. After buying a curry sandwich from the cafeteria, he paces through the halls, never straying far from the office. It doesn't take long for Kazuma to emerge, chatting amiably with the principal on his way out.

As soon as the door closes, Kyo runs up to him. "Shishou!"

"Hello again."

"What did he say?"

"As long as you get reasonable marks in your classes and refrain from any further brawls, everything should work out fine."

"How did you get him to let you be my guardian?"

Shishou's easygoing smile disappears. "After talking with your father, I couldn't see it of being any use to make any further attempts at convincing him to show up. I went through the procedures and had your forms with the school change me to your listed guardian – with your father's permission, this was not hard to do."

"He actually gave you permission?"

"I told him it was the most efficient way to get me to leave him alone. He seemed to find me quite annoying."

Overcome with gratitude, Kyo hugs him. Then, embarrassed by his gesture of affection, he swiftly releases him. "Thanks," he says awkwardly. "Really. For… for being there."

"It's the least I could do."

The bell rings, and immediately the halls fill with students. "I've got to get to class," says Kyo.

Shishou nods. After Kyo has taken several steps and been absorbed by the crowd, he calls after him, "Oh, and Kyo?"

Kyo turns, the flow of students pressing against him as they pass, forcing him to take a few steps backwards as though he is a rock being pushed along by a stream. "Yeah?"

"I trust I'll see you at your lesson this week?"

"I'll be there.

**4**

Izzy didn't expect Sharla to come to school today, but by the time Izzy woke up, Sharla had already left. She kept an eye out, but didn't meet up with her friend until late in the day when, on her way to gym class, she caught sight of Sharla through the glass windows of the school's computer lab. No one else is in there, and although Sharla seems completely entranced by the machine, Izzy can't help but think how lonely it must be.

Upon Izzy's entering the room, Sharla says, without looking up from her montitor, "I get to miss gym. Ironic, after all that time skipping, now I'm not allowed to go."

"'Children of Firebridge?'" Izzy reads off the screen. The words are written in flaming red letters on a black background. The name of some metal band?

"Oh, yeah. Since I had the time, figured I'd look into those things you described. This sound right? Unnaturally red hair, pale skin, kind of snake eyes? Like, with a slit pupil. Dress like eighteenth century noblemen, enjoy long walks on the beach and drinking human blood?"

"Are you serious?"

"Well, I'm not sure about the long walks-"

"No, I mean – yeah, that's them exactly. I'm just surprised you found them."

Sharla wags a finger at her. "What have I told you about doubting me?" Despite her joking tone, there is something fragile about her, like her smile might suddenly shatter.

"I shall never do it again, oh great one. What else does it say?"

"Basically they're fans of this serial killer from 300 years ago called Firebridge. Not much is known about him, but this cult believes he was really up there on the demon hierarchy, and if they follow him he'll share that power and make them into demons too. They're really secretive, though, so no one who isn't actually in the cult knows much more."

"Well, these dudes definitely weren't human. So, Firebridge is like their leader?"

"By the official records, he was executed by the state of Washington in 1747."

"Washington?" Izzy repeats. The word sounds strange to her, and she wonders if she's ever actually said it out loud before. Places outside of Coalbird don't come up very much in conversation here other than in the abstract, and especially not places as far away as Washington. "Then why are these guys in Coalbird?" she adds unnecessarily.

"Either this is an international affair, or they traveled."

**5**

It's cold outside, but he doesn't really mind. With his long coat, his body is warm, and he can tolerate the stinging on his face. It's better than being cooped up inside, as he's just spent the last seven hours, and will do again tomorrow. Taking comfort in the soft, steady drip of water draining from the roof, he drags the toe of his shoe through a thin layer of silt that's formed on the pavement, absentmindedly writing his name into it.

"Hey. Yuki."

Yuki turns to see who is talking to him. A tall, skinny guy his own age dressed all in black is leaning against the wall. His dark brown, completely straight hair is long and edgy in the front, short in the back, and he's good looking despite bad skin. He looks familiar, but if Yuki ever bothered to learn his name, he's long forgotten it. By the looks of him, one of Kyo's friends.

As though reading Yuki's mind, the guy points a thumb at himself. "John."

"Oh," says Yuki. "Hello."

John reaches into his pocket, producing a small, thin container covered in hazard symbols. He flips back the top, revealing a series of perfectly identical white tubes. "Smoke?" he offers. Yuki shakes his head. John shrugs and lights up, rather than making any further attempts at the peer pressure Yuki has heard so much about.

"So. What's up," John says, removing the cigarette and blowing out a long stream of light grey smoke. It isn't a question, the way he says it. This whole time he's been talking, his voice has kept the same tone, a mix of disinterest and something… dangerous? Like the wrong response could set him off.

"Not much," says Yuki.

"Don't usually see you around here at this time."

"I'm waiting for my brother. He's meant to be in a meeting with the principal, but he's late. Predictably."

John nods knowingly.

Yuki looks up at the sound of a car, but it doesn't even slow down, sending up a spray of crystalline droplets and a cloud of grey exhaust as it passes. "Why are you here?" he asks John.

Shrug. "Didn't feel like going home yet. And since by friends are being complicated, I thought I'd hang out with you."

"Yeah, sure. I don't mind, I guess."

"You've been spending a lot of time around Kyo lately."

"Have I?" Yuki is genuinely surprised. He didn't think people really noticed what he did one way or the other.

"Yeah. How is he?"

"He's… fine, I suppose."

John takes another deep drag on the cigarette. "Good to know." The smoke flows out all around his mouth as he talks. Yuki find it simultaneously repulsive and hypnotic.

"Yuuu-kiiiii!" Yuki flinches at the sound of the too-familiar voice. Forcing himself to look up, he steps out of the way just in time to avoid a collision with a tall young man wearing what appears to be some kind of lavender gown and grinning widely, waist-length silver hair billowing behind him. He pulls Yuki into a hug, apparently oblivious to the awkwardness as Yuki's arms remain firmly at his side. "Dear brother, it has been far too long. We must catch up." Noticing John for the first time, he releases Yuki and accosts the bemused teen, who had been attempting to slink away unnoticed. "Ah, Yuki, why didn't you tell me you had a new boy in your life?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Yuki and John demand in unison.

With a theatrical sigh, Yuki's brother continues, "But, I suppose, it can't be helped. We have been out of contact, but no more! For I, Ayame Aizawa, have arrived, and as we expose our deepest feelings to each other, we shall usher in a new era of brotherhood!" He extends a hand towards John, who spends a moment staring at it as though wondering if it will bite, before tentatively shaking it. "Allow myself to introduce myself. I am Ayame, Yuki's brother as you may have gathered, although we have been tragically estranged these last few years."

"Stop talking! Why do you tell everyone our personal business?"

Ignoring Yuki, Ayame says to John, "Can't you see our family resemblance?" and puts an arm around the shoulders of each teen, pulling them into an uncomfortable cross between a hug and a sandwich.

Click. Flash. As Yuki blinks rapidly to clear his vision of the blast of white light, two new shapes become visible in front of him. As they solidify, he recognizes one of them as a vaguely familiar woman wearing an extravagant frilly uniform the same shade as Ayame's garment. She is holding up a large, old-fashioned camera, and the eyes from behind her large but fashionable glasses are bright and as clearly overjoyed as her smiling mouth.

"Boss, this photo turned out so well!" In the Polaroid she holds up, an irked-looking Yuki and a terrified-looking John are being forcefully embraced by a silver-haired man, a smile taking up half his face, happily oblivious to the real world. "Everyone looks adorable!"

Ayame no doubt says something idiotic in response, but Yuki tunes him out. Looking away from the Polaroid, behind the woman with the camera… He blinks again, but the shape is still there, never quite solidifying but as he looks he begins to make out the details…

"W-who is that?" stammers Yuki.

"Why of course, how could I forget to introduce you? This is my gorgeous assistant Mine!"

Mine blushes at the compliment, but Yuki says, "No, not her. I remember her." He does, vaguely, as one of Ayame's friends from when he had been in high school, although her name had slipped his mind. "Beside her."

Ayame glances quickly towards the shape, then at John before answering, "Nobody, Yuki. Your eyes must be playing tricks on you." He's a terrible liar, but Yuki does see the point he is trying to make. Best not to bring John into this.

With a soft swish, a school door opens nearby. His head sticking out, the school principal looks warmly at Ayame. "I thought I heard voices out here. Hello, you must be Yuki's brother. There's a family resemblance. Please, come right in."

"Arigato," says Ayame, "for your hospitality." Yuki has the urge to go hide under a rock. "May I bring my assistant as well?"

"Of course. I couldn't leave her standing out here in the cold. Yuki, why don't you come in as well?"

"If it's no trouble, may I go home instead?"

"Of course. Come speak to me tomorrow morning before classes start and I'll fill you in on what we decide. You come to school early anyway, so it shouldn't be too much trouble.

"Thank you."

Noticing John, the principal's eyes narrow. The warmth is gone from his voice as he says, "John, why are you still here? Shouldn't you be getting home?"

Before he can finish talking, John takes off at a run.

**6**

The next day at school, Rin stands at her locker, picking up her textbooks for her next class. She is thinking about Karen. Karen who had been asking questions about things that weren't any of her business, who had been assuming things about her. It got under her skin, and although Rin can usually brush comments like that off, for some reason she can't stop thinking about their last conversation.

She doesn't feel anything for Karen. Nothing good, at least. No, that's a bit of an exaggeration – Karen is fine in small doses. But she certainly doesn't feel the same way for Karen as Karen does for her. And Tohru? It really isn't any of Karen's business, but still…

The relationships Isuzu has had in the past have all been short yet serious. She has dated both males and females, and although she's never made any attempt to hide it, she believes that her personal life should be just that – personal. Still, she's never really cared much for social trivialities, and whenever she's liked someone, she's gone for it. Of course, she's a Tracker first and foremost, and when a relationship imposed on that aspect of her life, she's never had a problem breaking it off.

She likes Tohru. Tohru is a likable person. Isuzu gets a pleasant feeling just from being around her. Things will develop as they may, she decides. And however things go, it's really not any of Karen's business. Karen may think they have some kind of shared experience, but in reality, the two of them have nothing in common. Karen appears to think of herself as being some kind of persecuted social revolutionary. Rin doesn't think in those terms.

Isuzu closes her locker and heads off to look for Tohru.

**7**

She stares down at the pencil with as much concentration as she can muster. Which, she is well aware, isn't much, as demonstrated by the fact that she has strayed from her original task of finishing her math homework to attempting to levitate her writing implement using only the power of her mind.

She has always been an optimist, but she has to admit, the chances of success are slim.

Maybe if she keeps practicing every chance she gets. Hasn't she heard somewhere that it takes 10,000 hours to become an expert at anything? Is that about eight hours a day for five years? That would take a lot of time out of her day, but if it means she will be able to be helpful to Rin –

"Tohru! Yo, get down here! Dinner!" The voice of her cousin echoes up the stairs and passes through her closed door, startling her from her train of thought. As Tohru Honda calls back that she is coming and she's very sorry for making everyone wait, she takes a quick last look back at the pencil and realizes she has spent most of her time daydreaming, and thus has learned very little of the worlds of both mathematics and magic. She sighs, promising to herself and her parents that she can do better.

Downstairs, her two cousins and grandfather are already seated at the table, steaming bowls of miso soup in front of them and at an empty spot. Taking a seat, she says, "Dinner smells delicious, Grandpa. Thank you."

Her eldest cousin Taro, the one who had been calling her, interrupts before her grandfather can answer. "It's probably cold now. Jeez, you took forever to get down here, didn't you hear me calling?"

"I guess not," she confesses.

"What were you doing up there?"

"Just… just thinking."

He snorts. "Yeah. Right."

Flavor explodes in her mouth at the first spoonful of soup. Despite Taro's claim that he had been calling her forever, it's still quite warm. "Grandpa, this soup is wonderful."

Her grandfather smiles. "I'm glad you like it, Tohru. It's a pleasure to have you staying here, you're always so polite."

Brody, her younger cousin, shoots her a dirty look.

They finish the meal in silence.

Afterwards, Taro and Brody go off into the living room to play video games, but since they are unable to agree on which one, most of the fighting takes place off-screen. Tohru and her grandfather wash the dishes to the sounds of running water and arguing. "Should I try to calm them down?" says Tohru.

"We'll let them be. I doubt it would do anyone good to get involved - they'll sort themselves out eventually."

When the washing is finished, Tohru returns to her room. Outside, the sun is just starting to go down. She thinks about how amazing it must look, to stand out by the fields and just watch it set, view clear to the horizon, past endless, flat land, covered in golden wheat. Of course, she can't see it – not from here. Here she can see houses, roads, fences, basketball hoops, long mysterious dynamic shadows.

Even this view captivates her, and as she sits down at her desk to make yet another attempts at her math homework, her eyes are drawn away from her books and out the windows. Without even realizing she is doing it, she reaches into the pocket of her jeans, her fingers finding a single small rectangle of paper, worn and soft from being carried with her everywhere and frequently handled. She takes it out, looks at it.

Written on it in blue ink is a phone number. The phone number for this very house. She has memorized it, but having it written down is a comfort. More permanent, tangible.

On impulse, she turns it over to the blank side and writes down another number she has memorized.

As she returns the slip of paper to its place, the muffled sound of a doorbell ringing downstairs immediately catches her attention, sending her thoughts spinning in all directions. A second later, and she is down the stairs. "I'll get it!"

But her grandfather already has. Standing in the doorway is Rin. The sounds of argument are conspicuously absent as Taro and Brody stand in the living room, making no attempts at subtlety as they observe.

"_Hello," _says Isuzu pleasantly, _"is Tohru-kun home?" _She smiles at Tohru as she says this.

Grandpa, in on the joke, turns to wink at Tohru. _"I'll go check. Oh, there she is."_

Isuzu waves at her, and says to Tohru's grandfather, "Would it be all right if I borrowed her for a few hours? We were planning to head up to Leftson."

"You must be Isuzu Takahashi. Tohru mentioned that she was going to spend time out with a friend today. I've got no problem with it, just be back by ten."

"Awesome, thanks. It's been nice talking with you."

"And you. Have fun, and stay safe."

Although neither Taro nor Brody know enough Japanese to have been able to understand the exchange, they are clearly annoyed and a bit surprised by the cross-lingual sentiment. They look ready to explode as Isuzu hooks her own arm around Tohru's before waving goodbye.

As the door closes, Tohru can only imagine what her cousins are saying about her, but she finds she doesn't care. Right now, she is experiencing an unfamiliar sense of pride. It feels good.

As they walk down the shadowy streets, it seems like they are the only people in the world.

They talk a bit, about school and plans and movies and music, but mostly they just enjoy being in each other's company.

Tohru tries to pay for her bus admission, but Rin stops her. "I've got passes for us both." When Tohru tries to thank her, she adds, "They sell them in bunches."

"I can't believe I'm going to a real Tracker meeting," says Tohru as they take seats beside each other, Tohru's next to the window. Outside, the horizon bisects a tangerine sun as it sends rays of colour through the fields and up into the clouds. It is as beautiful as she had imagined.

"It's not really a big deal," says Rin. "They have these things all the time, and usually nothing much comes out of them."

"Still," says Tohru, "it must be nice to meet other people who know about these things. It's like a whole other world to understand, and without meeting others who know about it, wouldn't it be so lonely?"

"I guess. Nice sunset."

The drive is over almost as soon as it begins. As Tohru steps off the bus, she hears someone call, "Hey, Rin! You came!" Since she is not particularly tall, it takes a moment for the crowd to clear before she can see whom the voice belongs to.

"Nice to see you, Ali," says Isuzu. "Tohru, meet Alice Uotani."

She doesn't need to clarify whom she is referring to, because a tall girl with long, dyed blond hair has pulled Isuzu into a hug, and although Rin is doing her best to look annoyed, it is clear she is glad to see her friend.

"Nice to meet ya." As Alice turns to face her, Tohru sees her hair almost covers one of her green eyes. The blond girl grins and extends her hand. "But please don't call me Alice."

"Nice to meet you, too, um… Ali?" says Tohru as they shake.

Ali seems to think about this for a moment. "Sure, that works."

"I don't get why you're always changing your name," says Rin. "Nobody's going to know who you are when they talk about you."

"Good," says Ali. "Maybe this will discourage the ever-mysterious them from discussing me."

Ali wears a long black jacket, a black shirt with a rainbow butterfly design on it, and a long orange-and-purple tie-dye skirt. With the confident way she carries herself, Tohru wouldn't think of her as being someone emotionally hurt by gossip, but the way she said it makes her wonder.

"Is Alice your given name?" asks Tohru.

Ali takes a moment to think. "You know, technically not, I suppose. It's not my legal name, at least. The birth certificate says 'Arisa', but it's like as soon as my parents had left the hospital they decided they hated the sound of it. They've always called me Alice. Maybe that's part of the reason why the name bothers me."

Tohru doesn't press for details. "Arisa is a pretty name."

"It is, isn't it?" says the blond girl, as though noticing this for the first time. "Yeah, maybe I'll try that out. Ali was starting to get on my nerves anyway. Thanks, Tohru."


	12. 11: Doughnut Song

Evil Town

Chapter 11

Doughnut Song

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I'm so glad to know people are still reading this fanfic. Sakura999, Running to my Heart, dishrag-chan, and ..., I thank you all so much. You guys are my inspiration.

Chapter title comes from a Tori Amos song.

**1**

"Kyo. We need to talk." John has his foot in the doorway like he expects the other boy to slam the door on him.

"What happened?" Kyo guesses it's Ian-related. John hasn't talked about anything else for days.

"It's Yuki." Kyo's ears prick up. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure. Of course," says Kyo, stepping aside.

After taking a seat on the sofa, John picks the remote up off the coffee table, examining it without seeing it, twisting the rubber buttons in ways which leave the TV a silent black box.

Kyo takes a seat beside him. "So?"

John looks slightly confused by his surroundings, like he has just been pulled out of a trance. "Right," he says decisively. "I was at the school talking to him – Yuki - yesterday, and first everything seemed normal, but then his brother showed up, and he brought this… _thing _with him."

"What kind of thing?"

"Like a… a woman."

"Why are you calling a woman a thing?"

"I'm not!" John slams down the remote. "I'd never do that, let me finish! She was, like, transparent – no, translucent, that's the word. And around the edges she was all wispy, like she was disintegrating. And I – I looked it up, Kyo, that's why I wasn't at school today. Me and Marcus went up to Leftson, to their city library and we looked it up."

"You went to Marcus about this without telling me?"

"I had to! Dude, you've been a complete space case these last few days, and last I heard, what I did myself was none of your business."

"Okay. Chill. I'm sorry about that, it's just a lot has been going on."

"Besides, Marcus works there. He can get hold of all the books that get taken off the shelves, the ones that have information about this."

"And what did you find out?"

"We think it's a ghost." Kyo isn't that impressed, and he doesn't try to fake it. Ghosts are common; they don't even take a strong spiritual sense to see. He barely pays any attention to them anymore himself. But John continues, "And from what the books said – I am _not _joking, it fits the exact description – this is the ghost of someone who died recently and violently somewhere in a nearby area. Kyo, this has to be what attacked Ian."

**2**

"Arisa," says Tohru, "what city are you the Tracker for?"

Arisa laughs. "Me? I could never be a Tracker. Too many rules, too much responsibility."

"She's a wizard," says Isuzu.

Tohru looks at the blond girl in awe.

"Jeez, Rin, way to scare her off," says Arisa, rolling her eyes.

"N-no, I'm not scared, just – wow! Arisa, that's amazing!"

"It's not, really. Not like Rin makes it sound. My powers are pretty fail."

"She's the strongest wizard under 80 years old in the city."

"Yeah, in the city of friggin' Leftson! It's not like that means much."

Rin and Arisa continue to argue as they walked through the streets of the city, but the two are clearly happy to see each other. Tohru is surprised by how big the city seems – it really isn't, this is a far cry from the billboards and bright lights of New York or the salaryman-packed streets of Japan, but it is definitely more urbanized than Coalbird. They pass by tall grain elevators, rows of houses, fast food restaurants, a water tower. Cul-de-sacs and chain stores and small malls. Sidewalks and roads branching off in all directions.

There are a few people out. Most don't pay the three of them much attention, but a few smile or wave, and Arisa smiles or waves back. Tohru starts to do the same, but Rin doesn't appear to notice them. There aren't many other teenagers around, or younger kids either. At a playground, a lone boy of maybe 12 makes continuous trips across the monkey bars with fierce concentration, but he's one of few people under 18, and the only one under 13. They turn off the main sidewalk, then off the paved path and onto what looks like a path made by hikers or deer through uncut grass and brambles.

"This must be it," says Arisa, as they come to a stop in front of a small square building, plain white paint peeling off plain wood walls. The roof, covered in decaying shingles, is concave, like it would collapse in on itself if a sparrow landed on it. The long metal antenna that sticks up off the structure is an anachronism, and even it is bent and tarnished.

Arisa and Isuzu walk around to the other side of the building like they've been here a thousand times before. Tohru follows them to a closed door. As Arisa turns the knob, the rattling sounds of locks are clear. "They're being careful today," she mutters to no one in particular. She holds her hand a couple centimeters over the knob and says a few syllables Tohru doesn't understand. There is a final click, and when Arisa again tries to open the door, it moves easily.

It's dark inside, and Tohru can't help but wonder if they've got the wrong place after all. Arisa again says something in the strange language, and a tennis-ball-sized sphere of pearly light manifests in front of her, illuminating the room as clearly as a new light bulb.

But it still looks like a deserted shed. Dirty shovels and other tools hang from hooks on the unpainted walls, glinting dully in the new light. A layer of dirt and plant matter covers the floor. As Arisa moves into the center of the room, the ball of light follows like she has it on a leash, bobbing slightly in the air. Arisa kneels down, grasps at the somewhat raised edge of one floorboard and pulls at it. It yields easily to reveal a flight of stairs. Tohru notices the dirt and bits of grass on the floor don't move as it's tilted onto its side, like they've been glued down.

The three girls climb down the opening and begin their descent down the long, winding staircase. As it goes on, the stairs, the first of which had been dingy, precarious-looking plywood contraptions, gradually become more elaborate. Concrete, checkerboard linoleum, carpeted, engraved stone. It also becomes less dark, to the point that the light Arisa had summoned is no longer necessary. The blond teen casually reaches out her hand to grab the light and appears to absorb it into herself.

And it gets louder. At first Tohru thought she was imagining them, turning her own breathing and the creaking of stairs into words, but it becomes undeniable that she is hearing languages. Plural, not just English, and not just what Arisa had been speaking. There's Spanish and German and Chinese and many more she can't put a name to.

The stairs end at a room that seems to stretch on forever, filled with one of the most diverse crowds Tohru has ever seen. People of all ages and backgrounds stand around talking, wearing anything from suits to torn overalls to traditional robes of various cultures. It reminds Tohru a bit of grand central station, except instead of ATMs, the décor consists of several-meter-tall stone statues of mystical-looking men and woman and some abstract designs. Underfoot is a thick red rug that, despite the countless people walking on it, looks to be completely clean. Overhead, the high ceiling looks like a black sky full of colorful, moving stars which light up the room.

Even Isuzu and Arisa, who must be used to these places, seem impressed.

"Hey, Tohru, let me show you around," says Arisa.

"Okay, that would be great! Thank you, Arisa – see you soon, Rin!"

It doesn't take long to lose sight of Isuzu in the crowd. Tohru makes sure to stick very close to Arisa. "So, how does this stay secret?" says Tohru. "I mean, I saw the precautions taken to hide this place, but it's just so…" She searches for a word, but can't come up with anything better than "big."

"There are loads of protection spells to keep people from being too interested in the area, and it's reinforced so that the ground won't collapse in from drilling or building overtop," says Arisa. She gestures to a long table covered in odd-looking substances. A man in a suit jacket and pink shorts has taken a bowl full of an iridescent purple goop and is spooning it into his mouth, so Tohru assumes this to be a snack table. "Don't take anything from there unless you're absolutely sure what it is. A lot of it isn't designed for human consumption."

Tohru isn't sure whether she's joking, so she asks, "Are some people here really not human?"

"Guess Rin didn't tell you, huh? Yeah, tons of Otherworlders come to these things. They take human forms for it, but some of the ones that don't live in this world can't pass very well." She glances towards the man in the pink shorts, whose legs have taken on a green tinge. His leg hairs have begun moving independently, like tiny tentacles. He looks down at his legs and they return to normal.

"So some of these people live in our world?"

"Sure. Quite a few, actually."

"How come nobody notices?" That was what she had meant in the first place, when she asked how this all stayed secret. How come things like this weren't all over the news, or in the papers? How come she hadn't known about any of this until recently?

"People like us notice. And the ones who don't… well, I guess they just don't look. It's amazing how people can overlook what's right in front of them."

"How many people know about this? Earth-people, I mean."

Arisa shrugs. "It's really impossible to estimate. There are varying degrees of knowing, if that makes any sense. We're definitely more well-informed about these things than the majority, so I don't think anyone has to tell you not to go spreading it around."

"Arisa… How come she told me?"

Arisa looks at her for a long time, not needing to ask who Tohru is referring to. "I'm not sure. She must think you're special."

Tohru doesn't know what to say.

"But be careful, okay?" continues Arisa. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I-I won't. I won't get in the way of the demons or Otherworlders, and I'm learning spells to protect myself-"

"I meant with Rin. You're nice, okay? And nice isn't her usual type, you have to remember that."

_Type? _Does Isuzu think of her like that? Isn't that what Tohru wanted? Even so, it comes as a surprise, and thinking about it right now makes Tohru more nervous that anything else.Eyes cast downward, Tohru says, "Thank you. But I don't… I don't know… what I am to her.

Arisa smiles sympathetically. "Hey, don't worry about it too much. Things will clear up. Oh, did you mention you were learning magic?"

"Well, I've only been working on it for a few weeks…"

"No problem, I remember when I was first starting out. Let me tell you about this one time, I was trying to do a hovering charm on a textbook during math class. My aim was off, and the teacher had this toupee…"

**3**

"Well, that went better than I had anticipated."

"They kicked us out of the house, boss."

"Aroo."

"I expected as much. She never gave me the time of night-"

"Day."

"That either, now that you mention it. She never did consider me her son, which, I suppose, is for the best."

"Rawoo?"

"But your brother-"

"I didn't expect one visit to fix everything, Mine. But a few years ago, he wouldn't have spoken to me."

"Graoo!"

"Boss, I'm so sorry…"

"It was my own fault."

"AWOOOOOOOO!"

"Yes, yes, please be patient!" Ayame snaps impatiently at the being sitting across from him at the table of his psychic headquarters. Turning to Mine, he concludes, "And now that my dear brother knows where to find me, who knows when he'll change his mind and turn up for some familial bonding and/or brotherly advice!" Back to his customer, Ayame says, "Now, what seems to be the problem? You seem like a perfectly healthy large black dog."

The dog whines, jumps down from the chair and begins pawing at something under the table.

Ayame Aizawa has always been an orderly person, but when he bought this headquarters, it became clear that he had simply acquired too many belongings in his lifetime for them to all be neatly on display. As such, many of said possessions are now hidden beneath the table, concealed by the long, glittering purple tablecloth. Not that it is messy under there, mind you. Everything is even alphabetized.

"Ah," says Ayame, looking under the table and pulling out the photo album the dog was scratching at. "You came all this way to see my collection of photographs of the Laptev Sea? Why, I'm flattered!"

"Boss, I don't think that's what he wanted," says Mine. Sure enough, the dog is still whining and scratching.

"Oh!" Ayame picks up a small model of a bird. "You're telling me this has something to do with lapwings! If I do say so myself, I am rather skilled at this nonverbal communication – would your dilemma, perchance, relate to the tribe of warrior lapwings that has recently seized control of the upper peninsula of Hainesville?"

"AWOOOOOO!"

"Is that a yes?"

"I think he wanted this," says Mine, setting a laptop computer on the table. The dog nods, jumping back on the chair.

"But Mine, what could a dog possible want with a computer?" asks Ayame, who had forgotten he even owned one.

As Mine unfold the computer, the dog begins to move its paws on the keys with amazing dexterity for a small animal with no opposable thumbs. Opening a text document, it types, **"that's just it. i'm not a dog."**

**4**

Sharla can't believe what she's seeing. Izzy told her this meeting was going to be something big, but nothing could have prepared her for this.

"Just stay close to me so you don't get lost," says Izzy.

"Yeah," says Sharla, who had been planning on doing that anyway. Not for the first time this evening, she wonders if she is here because Izzy wants her to be, or because Izzy doesn't want to leave her unattended. She feels like she is going to cry, and she doesn't know why. Something about Izzy does that to her, makes her so happy and so sad at the same time. Sharla can't put a name to it. She's not gay or anything, she just wants to be close to Izzy. Really close. More close than she could ever possibly be.

Her stomach hurts. She ate lunch today. She isn't used to doing that. It leaves a weird feeling in her throat and mouth, too.

She feels guilty.

"Hey," says Sharla. "Over there. Is that Tohru?"

Izzy takes a moment to see where Sharla is pointing. "Hey, yeah. That does look like her."

"I didn't know she was into all this stuff."

"Didn't I tell you? Oh, sorry, guess I forgot. But yeah, Isuzu Takahashi introduced her to the wonderful world of Trackers."

"Do they have a thing?"

Izzy looks at her quizzically.

"You know. A gay thing." For some reason, she feels embarrassed to say it, like she's just sworn in front of an adult.

"Dunno," says Izzy.

"I was just wondering," mumbles Sharla.

She is surprised by how many people here are her own age, but also by how many are not. Some of these people look way too young to be here. Maybe they came with parents. Would that happen? Multi-generation magical families? Oh yeah, Izzy said her grandfather was a Tracker, so it must. That would be such a different way to grow up, knowing about this kind of thing all your life. Maybe she'll ask Izzy about it later.

Now everyone is looking in the same direction. Sharla follows their gazes, which seem to be focused on a teenage goth girl at the front of the room.

"Good evening, everyone," says the girl. Her voice is loud, but she's not yelling. Something must be magnifying it, although there's no microphone in sight. Magic. "Many of you already know me, but for those of you who are new here, my name is Saki Hanajima."

Sharla likes the sound of her voice. It's deep for a girl, and cool. Kind of relaxing.

Saki Hanajima continues, "I called this meeting because, as I'm sure you've noticed, there are some strange energies in the air. No one has yet determined the source of these energies, but they are building up at an alarming rate. They are at their most concentrated in the town of Coalbird, but their effects can be seen overflowing into the surrounding area.

"They have been interfering with the regular workings of spells, causing an unpredictable influx of power which can override the safety mechanisms. Amateur sorcerers have been performing spells they would ordinarily not be able to, often with disastrous effects. Generally, if a spell is attempted by someone inexperienced enough to make a mistake in it, nothing will happen. This has all changed, increasing the risks for all of us, spellcasters and bystanders alike.

"If this problem is not solved quickly, these energies may create a rift between worlds. The small rifts that already exist create enough difficulty, hence we have Trackers. A rift of this scale could cause this world to be completely overrun with demons, or worse."

Sharla doesn't know what could be worse, but it certainly sounds grim.

"I invite all of you who have ideas regarding possible causes and solutions to come forward and speak. Thank you." As Saki Hanajima steps back into the crowd, there is a round of applause.

Sharla tries to listen to the speakers. Really, she does. But some of these guys can make even a potential apocalypse sound boring. There's a lot of technical jargon that she doesn't get, and a lot of them seem to be saying the exact same thing; we have no idea what the hell is going on.

Not that they're all like that. Some speakers are more down to earth. A pretty blond woman wearing a lot of hippy jewelry explains her theory that this has to do with shifting in the magnetic poles, and this will cause all spells to need to be rewritten and after that everything will be fine. A twenty-something guy in a suit says that it's because of some old curse that's finally started to take effect. Sharla can wrap her mind around those theories. Sort of.

A lot of people seem to think this has to do with some sort of forbidden spell being used wrong and interfering with the usual workings of magic in the balance of the space-time continuum and whatnot. Translation: someone broke the rules and now everything's gone wonky.

There seem to be a lot more ideas about the cause than there are solutions. If half of these ideas are true, then everyone's screwed.

The most interesting part of the speeches is when a posh middle-aged woman who must be from quite a ways out of town is interrupted by a crazy guy running up and shouting "It's time! It's time, I tell you!" Judging by the tattered rags he is wearing and his long beard, he is probably homeless. The posh woman looks absolutely horrified.

Two burly men grab hold of his arms like they are about to drag him away, but Hanajima interrupts them. "If he has something to say, let him say it."

The crazy guy looks around the room jerkily, eyes wild. "It's time. Remember, all of you – it's time!" Then he laughs, or sobs, and runs out of view.

A few people laugh, while others look shaken up. Both apply to some people. Sharla checks to see how Izzy is reacting.

All the colour has drained from the her face. "That's what they said to me," Izzy says quietly.

"What do you mean?" says Sharla. "Who?"

"Them – the Children of Firebridge. They were saying the same thing. 'It's time.'"

**5**

There was a part of the story that John had forgotten to tell Kyo, and he tries not to overanalyze how come because then he can't stop thinking about it. It keeps him up all night just thinking of the expression on Thunder's face and how he was the one who caused it. It's a stupid thing to think about because John had seen that expression before – he's a forceful guy, after all. A lot of people are scared of that.

But come to think of it, maybe the other boy's fear isn't what's bothering him. It's the fact that he only seemed afraid for half a second and then he was all smiling and friendly like he thought John was his friend. Thunder must have been completely brain-dead to think that. They'd spoken, like, twice, and he wasn't the type of person John would associate with.

Thunder was ridiculous. Even the way he dressed - that day it was a red bandana, long purple jacket, yellow t-shirt and green jeans. Who even owned green jeans? The outfit normally would have made John laugh, but that day he only smiled and Thunder must have taken that as a sign of sociability.

He started _talking _to John, and about the strangest stuff – like this one tv show he saw on the sci-fi channel where there were these aliens who absorbed the influences of everything they came into contact with. It turned out the humans sent all their criminals into space so they ended up meeting the aliens and then the aliens became evil so they attacked earth. Thunder thought this was the scriptwriters trying to make some kind of statement about how bad people are, but he thought this was a bit over-the-top since most people really are overall good, even criminals because a lot of them just make bad choices and one couldn't know their whole story, and he wanted to know what John thought.

John said he didn't know much about science fiction and doesn't watch much tv because of his step-dad who does nothing but sit on the couch watching shows about people getting mauled by animals and guzzling beer all day. He made it look so disgusting that it turned John off television and beer and even sitting on that couch because it probably has his step-dad's dead bits of skin on it (yes, John thinks about these things).

His step-dad was actually the reason John was out of he house right then. That's why John was bothering to talk to this guy in the first place. There were about a thousand placed he would rather be than standing out there in the cold but his step-dad had gotten him so upset that John couldn't think straight and suddenly there he was, telling his life story to someone whom he normally wouldn't dare to be seen with in public. John had mentioned his step-dad without thinking and Thunder was asking him questions – he didn't seem awkward about it like John's friends would be, and he wasn't prying either, just asking – and it actually felt good to be talking about his life and have someone listening.

Then Thunder invited him to go see a new movie and John thought sure, why not, although it turned out not to be a new movie but one that had been out for like a year but was still playing at the cheap theater. The popcorn was gross so they threw it at the screen whenever something didn't make sense – it was a science fiction movie, and John's not a great student but even he knew that the long words being thrown together to explain what was going on were just made up. Thermal-molecular-structural-reformation did not explain how a beam of light could make a person age backwards. Even though it was really a bad movie John had more fun watching it that he would have gotten from seeing a good movie with his normal friends.

At the end, Thunder – who said John should call him Cole, his first name, but John wasn't sure whether he would comply – said they should clean up all the popcorn they threw, which was lame, but John did it anyway because there was no point in arguing. By the time they were done it was dark outside. There were some teenagers outside the theater smoking. Normally John would have been one of them but he saw Thunder look at them disapprovingly just for a second, and even though John has had people looking at him like that before and it's never bothered him, for some reason he pushed the package of cigarettes he was carrying deeper down in his pocket like he was afraid they were going to slip out and Thunder would see and think badly of him.

It really didn't make much sense considering who Thunder was and who John was, so John blames the fact that it was late and he drank too many sugary caffeinated beverages while watching the movie. He was being irrational, but it didn't feel bad and it really was a nice night out, with a big bright moon and ice-white pinprick stars glowing in a sky which was just a bunch of layers of blue, and, suddenly, he realized how late it must have been, and that he had told Marcus they were going to meet up.

Turning to Thunder, he said, "Gotta go," which might have been kind of rude but it wasn't a big deal. Thunder was probably happy someone had bothered to hang out with him. It's not like anyone did at school. Even the nerds thought he was weird, and he was, but maybe he wasn't actually that bad (John still blames these thoughts on the caffeine).

When he got to Marcus's house John was way late and of course Marcus asked where he'd been. John said he got stuck in traffic, which made Marcus look at him funny since John lives three blocks away from him. But he didn't ask, because that's how things are.

_That's how things are, _John reminds himself.

**6**

Creak, swoosh. Creak, swoosh. The chains of the playground swing are like ice in Yuki's hands. The stretching in his legs feels good as he swings them back and forth, pumping, moving forward and back, slicing through the night air. Like an arrow, flying. Creak, swoosh.

No one knows he is out here. They wouldn't approve. But they won't suspect. They think he is a gamepiece to be controlled, or else that he is fragile. Here, now, just for a short time, he feels like neither.

The ghost watches him, as she always seems to be doing nowadays, shimmering silver a few meters away. Standing silent as always. He feels he should know her name. It must have been on the news, but there are so many names on the news that it's impossible to remember. Lives reduced to a few words, to "tragic developments" and "heartfelt losses" that click as they are shut out of the living room.

Ayame had come to the house to talk to him after the meeting with the principal, bringing along Mine and the ghost. Yuki wondered why either would want to follow his brother, and he'd asked.

Mine looked flustered, but pleased, when Ayame explained that she has been his friend since high school and they have remained close, although he used many more words to say this. He was running some sort of supernatural agency, which Yuki found ironic, as his brother was his only family member to exhibit no natural magical abilities whatsoever. Still, some people seemed to have fallen for it, which was where the ghost came in.

At first Yuki was scared of her. Even if she hadn't made the air cold all around her, she would have sent chills down his spine. With her silence, everything Yuki or anyone else says seems magnified, disrespectful. But she never does anything but follow people, gliding over the ground. Her long, thin form wears the spectral version of the clothes Yuki assumes she died in. Sometimes she goes through the motions of walking, as though she still has to do this to move. She seems so real in these moments – he can see the shape of her body's spectral form moving under the fabric of the white-silver imitations of the clothing he assumes she died in. He can see her moonlight-coloured knees through the rips in the knees of her loose jeans. Her jacket (it's a ski jacket, with pockets and zippers – there's a bent up ski admission pass attached to the main zipper – it probably used to be a colorful jacket, but now it's also white-silver) is ripped too, at the shoulder. Sometimes the area is invisible behind the smoky tendrils surrounding her. Other times he can see blood.

Ghost blood looks strange. It's as black as the night sky, although maybe not really black because he can see it glistening even in perfect darkness, without any source of light to reflect off it. Sometimes there is more blood, all down her jacket and shirt. But sometimes there is hardly any, just a scratch on her shoulder.

Yuki tries not to look at her face. Her eyes look sad or scared or unreadable but are always silent. They tell him nothing but make him feel like he should be doing _something. _He can't see her mouth. The smoky substance wraps around it, differently that it does her shoulder – rather than a cloud surrounding the area, it presses against her. Maybe it fills her mouth, or maybe it just presses her lips shut.

"She came to me for something, yet for some reason she refuses to tell me what the problem is," Ayame had sighed.

"Of course she won't," said Yuki, suddenly not just annoyed but angry with his brother. More angry than he had been in a long time. "Isn't it obvious she can't?"


	13. 12: Breaking Glass

Evil Town

Chapter 12

Breaking Glass

Author's Note: Okay. I am back. I'm sorry I've been away for so long, exams were taking over my life. But school is out now. Yay. So finally I will be able to have a regular update schedule, at lest for the next two months.

Now that that's out of the way, thank you, thank you, to all my readers and reviewers. Vikertee, dishrag-chan, and ..., I cannot thank you enough. You help me to be more confident and to grow as a writer, and that's really meaningful to me.

Chapter title comes from a song by Uncut.

**1**

As it gets later, the speeches become shorter and less prepared and the crowd begins to disperse. Some people exit through any of the various stairways around the room while others simply vanish into the air. 'We should probably go, too," says Arisa, and Tohru and Rin echo their agreement. It's been a long time since anything new was said, as far as Tohru can tell, and Rin and Arisa's expressions of general boredom this past half-hour seem to support this. Arisa begins to chant quietly, in the language Tohru already recognizes as the one she uses for spells.

It's the strangest feeling, and it only lasts a second. Tohru feels herself disappearing, becoming weightless and spaceless, and then she is somewhere else, corporeal as ever. She taps her foot down against the weedy ground, and it offers as much resistance as she would normally expect. The shed containing the hidden staircase stands innocuously in front of her.

"Hey, sorry about that." Someone touches her shoulder and she turns to see Arisa, standing beside Rin. "Probably should have given you some warning. You ever teleported before?"

"No. That was incredible."

"Really? Most people find it kind of anticlimactic."

"It was interesting! I've never done anything like that."

Arisa smiles. "Oh, you are going to have so much fun with magic."

"We should probably get Tohru home," says Rin. It's already quite dark, and although there are streetlights, they are spaced far apart. Everything is blue- or orange-tinged by the light and shadows.

They start walking. "I'd teleport you back, but it only works places I've been before," says Arisa.

"I don't mind walking," says Tohru.

A few blocks later, Tohru notices footsteps out of rhythm with hers, Arisa's, and Rin's. She turns to see two people behind them. One she recognizes as Sharla, a girl she has spoken to who seems nice, but something about her that Tohru can't place makes her a bit nervous. The other is Izzy, the other Tracker, whom Rin usually seems to be angry with but Tohru doesn't really know.

Tohru smiles and waves. Sharla waves but doesn't smile, and Izzy smiles but doesn't wave.

Isuzu and Arisa also turn to see what Tohru is looking at. Isuzu frowns. The trio's pause gives the other two teenagers time to catch up.

"Hi there," says Izzy.

"It's nice to see you again," says Tohru, then wonders if she should have. What will Rin think of her being friendly with Izzy?

"You too," says Izzy.

"Yeah," says Sharla.

"I'm Izzy," Izzy says, turning to Arisa.

"Arisa."

"Nice to meet you. So, what did you guys think of the meeting?"

"End of the world," says Arisa, but her tone is light, "again."

"Yeah, pretty much," agrees Izzy.

"You mean they're usually like this?" says Tohru.

"Oh, sure," says Izzy. "So many things can go wrong when magic's involved, but with so many people working on this it should be solvable before it gets much worse." _Should be._

"Maybe you're not worried for your own safety," interrupts Rin, "but show some concern for that of the general public."

"Me and Sharla have been looking out for them. Haven't we, Shar?"

Sharla nods. "We've been doing a lot of research and setting up traps and detection mechanisms."

"You're bringing her into this?" says Rin.

"Why not? You brought Tohru into it."

"Tohru knows what she's doing, and so do I. Shouldn't you get home?"

Izzy returns Rin's glare, but without the same confidence. "I'm sixteen, not six."

"You're also a Tracker, and in the wrong town."

Izzy makes her mouth into a painful expression resembling a smile. "I was on my way – no rush. Like Sharla said, we've been setting up demon traps like crazy."

"You mean those frequency-responding codes?"

"Yup."

"They're lousy. Unless you modify them, you'll end up catching Kyo again. Or worse, if you forgot to attach them to an energy source, they'll be doing absolutely nothing by this point."

"Oh," says Izzy. She adds a _"shit! "_under her breath, loud enough for everyone to hear quite clearly. Forcing another smile, Izzy says, "Great seeing you guys. I gotta go now."

Izzy darts out of view and Sharla follows. "So," says Arisa. "That was the Nurit Izoku I've heard so much about."

"I've mentioned her maybe twice," says Rin.

"And you don't talk about other people much, so she must have really got under your skin."

"Doesn't she bother you?"

Arisa shrugs. "Don't know her well enough to say."

Isuzu doesn't reply. For a while there is nothing but the sounds of footsteps and a slight wind, occasionally interrupted by the rushing noises of passing cars.

"Rin?" says Tohru.

Shadows sway across Rin's face as she moves. "Yeah?"

For a moment, Tohru can't recall what she'd wanted to say. Maybe she'd just wanted to hear Rin speak. Then she remembers. "Why do you hate Izzy?"

"Is that what it seems like?" Isuzu pauses, and Tohru isn't sure whether she's supposed to answer. But Isuzu continues. "I don't hate her. She just gets on my nerves. Our personalities don't mesh, at all. We wouldn't even associate if she wasn't a Tracker."

"But she is a Tracker," says Arisa, "and Rin never lets her hear the end of it."

"She'd probably forget if I didn't. Honestly, if she doesn't want to do the job, she should give it to someone else."

"It sounds like she's making a bit of an effort," says Arisa.

"If she was making enough of one, I wouldn't spend half my time out in Coalbird."

"If this keeps up, we'll all be spending a lot of time there soon," says Arisa.

"You mean… what they were talking about at the meeting?" says Tohru.

"Exactly," says Arisa.

"But… I thought you said you weren't worried about it?"

"There's no use being worried about it. But we've still got to do something."

"You'll get to understand the mentality," says Rin. "If we let our concerns interfere with our duties, everything will go up in smoke. Anyway, I'm sorry if my attitude towards her bothers you, but it's just who I am."

Tohru considers possible responses and settles on, "I understand." She looks up as a metallic creaking startles her. "That boy…"

She stops, and Arisa and Rin turn to see what she's looking at.

The boy who had been at the playground earlier is still there, repeating the exact same task. Across the monkey bars, over and over and over. "Maybe he's training for something," says Arisa.

"He shouldn't be out this late," says Rin.

"We were, when we were that age," says Arisa. "But yeah, he probably shouldn't."

Something dark moves in the Tohru's peripheral vision, followed by a gust of cold air. She turns, but there's nothing to be seen. "What was that?"

"An oversized bat?" says Arisa.

"Or a demon," says Isuzu.

"Don't get into fight mode just yet." Arisa's voice has dropped to a whisper. "Listen."

Pounding. At first Tohru has to hold her breath to hear it. Like the muffled sound of drums, gradually increasing in volume. "It's coming back."

Her words are unnecessary. Seconds later, a grey blur surrounds the teenagers, pounding as it spins, sending harsh wind lashing at them. "Is this a demon?" Tohru tries to say, but the wind swallows the syllables the moment they are out of her mouth. She can't tell if there is one or many of the grey things, moving so fast it or they look almost like a solid ring.

The force of wind sends Tohru staggering backwards, and the sensation of body heat through clothing tells her she's pressed against Isuzu and Arisa. Looking up, Tohru sees the two of them have similar expressions. Mouths flat, eyes narrowed. Fight mode.

Something is glowing in one of Arisa's hands. As it expands, it takes the shape of a fireball. The reds and blues and oranges and golds shine up on Arisa's face, and against the backdrop of a now-black sky her hair appears almost white. She looks like a fiery angel.

She briefly examines the fireball, grown to the size of a volleyball, spinning it around above her hand, before hurtling it towards the blur. A piercing howl splits the air, followed by the smell of burning hair. The blur slows, becoming one shape.

The huge wolf, spots of its fur singed black, glares at them with clear brown eyes. _Human eyes. _

Arisa, already forming another fireball, glares back. "Wait," Tohru and Isuzu say in unison. Isuzu is looking at something in the distance, and Tohru follows her gaze to see two figures in brown robes walking towards the playground. She squints, but their hoods are up, and she can't make out any more details.

The wolf has also taken notice of the cloaked people and after brief hesitation begins to sprint towards them, hindered by a limp but still faster than a human could move. Isuzu and Arisa take off after the wolf, and Tohru follows. The mysterious people moving towards the playground, the wolf running towards them, Isuzu, Arisa and Tohru running towards the wolf.

The wolf gets there first. With a flying tackle, it (_he? She?) _sends a cloaked figure crashing to the ground. Isuzu puts out her arms to stop Arisa and Tohru from getting any closer, but it's unnecessary. Tohru's body isn't responding to anything she could tell it to do. Not a spell, just fear.

Locked in struggle, the pair tumble over and over, exchanging vicious bites and kicks and punches, filling the air with hisses and growls. The wolf bites down hard on the area of the cloak where a person's neck would be concealed, and the struggle cuts off abruptly. The wolf's opponent lies motionless on the ground.

The wolf raises it's head and releases a howl that's unmistakably triumphant.

The second figure, which had been standing off to the side as the clash went on, observing the proceedings with apparent interest but making no move to aid its partner, has resumed advancing towards the playground. The wolf lunges at the thing from behind, but it turns just in time, catching the wolf in midair with a long arm draped in folds of shadowy fabric. With what looks like minimal effort, it throws the wolf several meters. The animal hits the ground hard and lies limply on its side. After a long moment, the wolf raises its head, albeit weakly, and Tohru lets out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

Has the creature gotten bigger, or does it just look like that now that it's standing over the suddenly defenseless wolf? It pulls something out from beneath it's cloak, and the object shines tarnished silver in the starlight. A sword, the blade long and thin and threateningly curved. It raises the weapon above its head, saluting the black circle of new moon.

The figure stumbles sideways before it can swing, caught off guard by a sudden blow to its head.

The boy from the playground continues his attack on the surprised creature, lashing at it repeatedly with a… stick. The makeshift weapon is longer than he is tall, but he wields it with strange grace, twirling it rapidly and striking from all angles, his hands changing position with instinctual ease. Despite the unevenly matched weapons, he manages to force the creature back a significant distance, dodging or even repelling the sword.

The intended finality is clear when the figure changes its stance, putting its full body weight into a downward cut, but the boy falls to his back before he can be hit. When he rolls back into a standing position, his stick has been cut in two, yet he proceeds to stab at the creature repeatedly with the two bits of wood.

The fight becomes increasingly absurd. The boy's weapons become more broken and pathetic by the second, and his reaction time becomes slower as the conflict draws on, his clothes now tattered and body covered in mostly-small cuts, yet the creature never manages to hit him directly.

With a burst of heat and a flash of white light, the creature dissipates into acrid black smoke, leaving the boy staring wide-eyed at the space now occupied only by ashes.

The figure that the wolf had presumably killed manages to rise to its feet for a few seconds before it meets the same fate as the other.

Another fireball is already in Arisa's hand as she strides into the conflict zone. "What are you?" she says, voice low and accusing, eyes fixed on the wolf.

"A-are you all right?" Tohru asks the boy, but his only response is to glower at her with startling venom before turning his back and walking over to the wolf, sitting down cross-legged beside it. She turns to Rin. "What's going on?"

"Hell if I know."

The wolf stands up, legs wobbly. It shakes itself like a dog trying to dry off. As it does this, its fur draws into its skin, and a blue-brown-lilac veil appears in the air, moving like a flag in wind, or the surface of quickly flowing water. The veil solidifies, wraps around the wolf, and the wolf stands, it's body thinning and lengthening.

Now, standing before them, is an elderly man, at least eighty years old. The veil has become a blue shirt, brown pants, and a faded lilac jacket. His skin is brown and weathered, and he has a full head of white hair that falls past his shoulders. His eyes are clear. Although they had looked shockingly human on his wolf form, there is something wild about them superimposed on a man's face.

He is frowning.

The boy seems entirely unsurprised by this transformation.

"What are you kids doing out so late?" says the old man, his voice bubbling with anger. "Teenagers. Should have known."

"Hey!" says Arisa. "We just saved your life!"

"We had it under control," says the boy.

Arisa examines the fireball she is holding, closes her hand around it and it disappears. "Sure didn't look that way."

"Maybe not to _you._" The boy jams his hands into his pockets. His fingers poke through the rips, and he clenches his fists to hide this. "What are you, a dropout?"

"No." Arisa looks like she wants to say more, but she doesn't.

"You sure look like one."

"Hiro!" The man has turned his disapproving gaze to the boy.

"What? It's true."

"Maybe so, but you are to stay out of this conversation."

"That kid's with you?" says Arisa. "And you're lecturing us about staying up late?"

"It is none of your bloody business how I raise my grandson."

"Oh," says Rin. "I think I know who he is. Let's go."

She turns to walk away, but Arisa grabs her by the arm. "What? Who is he?"

"One of the Trackers from Willamstone."

Realization clears Arisa's expression. "Ah."

"Eh?" says Tohru. "Who are you?"

"Come on, Tohru," says Isuzu. "I'll tell you later. Nothing's going to come out of talking with him."

"I'm still here, you know." To Tohru's surprise, he continues, "I might as well tell you. My name is Timothy Nishikawa."

"Congratulations," mutters Arisa.

"Why aren't you in your own city?" says Isuzu.

"I happened to be in town for tonight's meeting. I thought that while I was here, I might as well clear up some of the demons and other clutter that's accumulated around the area."

"I'm the Tracker for this district, and I've made it one of the safest in the country."

"Then what is your excuse for the demons that just assaulted us?"

"Common sense should be enough to let anyone know that running around in the middle of the night isn't safe."

"Maybe so, but it's your duty to take care of these demons as soon as they appear. It was only by chance that you noticed this pair of marauders. Who can say how many others like them have gone unhindered?"

"I have traps, signals –"

"And the demons somehow avoided setting them off."

Rin is speechless.

"Common sense," he says thoughtfully. "There's such a shortage of it these days. I used to live in this town. It was a better place back then. So much more innocent. Now it's all becoming just like the cities."

"You live in one of the biggest cities in the province," says Arisa.

"I might as well be right at the source of the evil, rather than the overflow. My wife and daughter-in-law were both Trackers here. I can only imagine what they'd say if they saw it now. Overrun by demons and disrespectful teenagers. And that murder right under your noses in Coalbird. People are capable of worse than demons these days."

**2**

Haru comes with to visit her.

"Yuki?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sure you're ready to do this?"

White light fragments as it changes angles passing through the glass revolving doors, scattering specks of colour along the floor. "I have to." His chest hurts with the speed of his heartbeat. The kaleidoscope pattern spins as he turns the doors, coming to a stop in an entirely different position.

Haru places a hand on his shoulder. "We can come back another day, if you want. I'm available anytime."

"Why are you so worried?" He's one to be talking. His internal organs all feel like they're in the wrong places, causing him discomfort and preventing him from even being able to get a sufficient amount of air into his lungs.

"You don't look well."

Yuki tries to smile. "Then it's a good thing we're in a hospital."

Their footsteps echo through the fluorescent off-white hallways. The building smells like disinfectant. It has the fabled aura of artificiality that is always mentioned about hospitals. It's supposed to be a bad thing. Yuki finds it calming. He wonders if that's bad.

People are quiet here. There are few of them, most traveling in groups. They talk in whispers or they are silent except for their footsteps. They remind Yuki of the ghost not far behind him, who has become such a fixture in his life that he hardly notices her anymore. She's probably the best thing his brother ever brought him. _Not a thing, _he reminds himself. _A being. _But his brother has never brought him a being before, so the thought loses meaning.

Haru talks with a secretary, or some kind of nurse. He hands her some papers. This isn't surprising. Haru has a talent for making things work out. At least minor things like this. The visit is a major thing, but getting through security is not, because there had been no doubt in Yuki's mind that they could do it. But succeeding on the first try is nice.

An attendant leads them into her room. Leaves them alone with her. Yuki, Haru, a ghost and a girl.

She is sleeping. She looks like she is just having a normal rest, despite the machines beeping beside her and the too-white sheets and the sterile hospital aura enveloping them all. She is young. Maybe twelve. Strands of orange hair fall in front of her face. For some reason it makes him think of Kyo.

How many people had he hurt? The notion is overwhelming. He has to sit down. There are no chairs, so he uses the floor. It's clean anyway. He rests his arms on his knees and his forehead on his arms.

He had been under Westweaver's control, but Yuki knows he is still to blame. It was his idea to summon a spirit to give him power. Even if Haru had done it for him, Yuki can't blame him. Haru will do anything Yuki asks. The magical sphere Yuki paid him was only a formality. Haru asked for it in the hopes that Yuki would have a reason to change his mind, to be unable to pay up and thus no longer try to convince Haru to do this. But if Yuki hadn't paid up, if he'd just asked… he know Haru would still have done it. Yuki knows it would be best for everyone if he didn't have this kind of control.

She doesn't even live in Coalbird. She was walking to the bus stop after a movie when he'd attacked her, blindly lashing out. He'd hit her until she fell and then left her in the street. The worst thing was that he didn't even remember. But he'd seen the news report the next day and known he'd done it.

I'm sorry. You didn't do anything to deserve this. Your name is Kisa. It's a beautiful name. I'm so sorry. I don't think I can stand to be around you. It feels like me heart will break, in the literal sense. That's probably what I deserve. This is the first time I've seen you. I'm glad your eyes are closed. I hope you never see me.

"Yuki?"

He looks up into Haru's concerned face.

"She's going to be okay."

"I know," says Yuki. It's hard to move the words out of his throat. _Stop loving me. Please._

They leave her some flowers in a vase. No card. The petals are the same orange as her hair. Unplanned, but fitting.

**3**

"What the hell is that?"

"Huh?"

"Don't bother playing dumb."

"Oh. You mean her?"

"Yes. Of course I mean her. Who the hell else would I mean?" There's no one else, living or otherwise, to be seen. The two boys met by chance, taking the same detour alongside the slightly-overflowing irrigation ditch by the fields while heading to entirely different destinations.

_She _shimmers in the air nearby as they exchange angry and impassive looks across a few squares of sidewalk.

Yuki looks at the ghost beside him as though seeing her for the first time and being only mildly surprised. "I don't know," he says after a long time, shrugging.

Kyo's nails bite into his palms. "Did you tell your ghost to attack my friend?" Truth be told, Kyo had put John's talk about Yuki having a ghost out of his mind almost as soon as John had left. Sometimes relatives or friends would want to spend time around someone before passing on, and if that was the case, then it really wasn't Kyo's business, and nothing he could say about it would go over well anyway. And he'd seen Yuki at school, albeit only brief glimpses in the crowded halls, and nothing had struck him as particularly sinister. But this is different. Suddenly, all doubt in Kyo's mind has been erased. This. Is. _Her._

"No. Why would I do that?"

"Who knows with you!" Kyo wants to punch something, but there's nothing corporeal in sight aside from Yuki, and even though Kyo is infuriated, he doesn't want to actually hurt him. Yuki's weird as anything, but something prevents Kyo from feeling the same dislike towards him as he had before the thing with Westweaver and the mind-meld. Maybe it's the threat of him getting another evil spirit to possess him. Yeah, that must be it.

"Even if I'd told her to attack someone, I doubt she'd be able to. She's harmless."

"How can you know that?"

"I just do."

"That's not good enough!"

"Really?" Yuki steps closer, and Kyo steps back. Not nervousness. Personal space. "You've never just known something? Felt in all your being that it had to be real?" The way Yuki's lips move around the syllables increases the weird feeling in Kyo's stomach. He tries to stop noticing – both the feeling and any specific feature of Yuki. Hey, isn't that an interesting cloud over there? It's whitish-grey, whereas all the other clouds are grayish-white.

_Snap out of it, dammit. _"'Just knowing' doesn't mean shit to me, okay? The murdered woman's ghost went after my friend, and don't try to tell me that isn't her."

Yuki shrugs, suddenly back to normal. Or maybe he's been normal this whole time, and Kyo was just freaking out from… lack of sleep. Or something. "I never told you that. All I said was she never attacked anyone."

"Ian was-"

"Assaulted by a ghost, I know. But what makes you so sure it was this ghost?" He picks something up off the ground. Kyo looks to see what it is, but is disappointed when it's only a rock. (_What was I expecting, anyway?_) Yuki turns it over in his hands several times, even though it's completely plain, even by rock standards, and then turns his back to Kyo and throws it with what looks like all his strength. It lands far away, sending out a series of ripples as it hits the shallow water. "Show us where this happened. Maybe she can find this other ghost."

"Fine." Kyo tries to say it defiantly, despite finding the suggestion completely rational.

**4**

Sharla is stretched out on the couch, a look of disinterest on her face as a sitcom plays on the TV. Canned laughter echoes through the house, mixing with the sounds of Lihi's cooking and Izzy's pencil scratching against paper. Sharla's tattered, brand-name backpack serves as a pillow.

It's been nearly two weeks since Sharla's unexpected arrival, and no one has yet mentioned her leaving. To Izzy, it looks like Sharla is more at home here than she had been the few instances Izzy had seen Sharla in her own house. Sharla didn't like having people over there, but the little Izzy had seen made an impression.

The show cuts to commercial, and the bit of concentration Sharla had been directing at the TV shifts focus. "Hey. Izzy?"

Izzy looks up from the homework she'd been doing. Last week's homework, but the test is tomorrow, and she needs to start understanding the unit. Stupid math, with its stupid circles and triangles. "Yeah?"

"Does your brother live here?" Izzy has mentioned her brother a few times, as had Lihi, but the way they spoke about him made it impossible for Sharla to glean much information. _"Izzy, you're taking after your brother more everyday." "What would he say if he heard you say that?" _Sharla has never seen this brother, despite wearing at least one article of his clothing on any given day since she started staying here (at first she felt weird about the crossdressing, but his clothes _were _really nice, and a t-shirt and shorts went for either gender, right?).

"Sometimes," says Izzy.

"Like, where is he now?"

"Somewhere in India, I think."

"Seriously?"

"Uh huh. He's doing some explore-the-world program for a year before he starts university. I haven't seen him in months."

"Does he call?"

"When he can."

"So, he's missing Christmas? Sorry, Hanukkah?"

"Looks like it. It's not really an important holiday."

"Do you miss him?"

"Of course. He's family." Izzy's eyes widen as she realizes what she's just said to whom. "I-"

"Don't worry about it," says Sharla. "I'm over it." She turns away before Izzy can see her rub the first signs of tears out of her eyes. She _is _over it, regardless of what her thoughts tell her in the moments of depression that seem to hit without cause or warning.

The sitcom ends. The closing theme fades into the imposing tones of the evening news anchor. "Oh," says Sharla. "It's that murder case again."

Izzy abandons her homework and sits down on the carpet in front of the television.

The screen cuts to a scene outside a suburban house, the reds and blues of police lights bouncing schizophrenically off chipped white paint. Two uniformed officers force along an insubstantial man, his arms bent behind his back at severe angles. His head down, messy dark hair hides his face and enhances his paleness.

"Three weeks after the death of Angela Scribner was ruled a homicide, police have finally apprehended a suspect." The narrator's voice contains all the requisite pathos. "Michael Scribner, the victim's husband, had been missing since the incident, but was found this morning to be staying out of town at a relative's house. Police were able to locate him based on a tip from a concerned neighbor. Authorities hope Scribner's arrest will provide some answers about this tragedy."

Michael Scribner looks directly at the camera. Surrounded by shadows, his eyes are light hazel. It bothers Sharla that there is nothing visibly evil about him. She probably won't even remember his face tomorrow.

So she'd better act now. "Mind if I get on your internet?"

"Go ahead. About the case again?"

"Yup."

"I feel so bad about making you do all this Tracker research for me."

"You're not making me. I volunteered."

"I guess."

"Don't guess. It's a fact. You can have my official statement that I want to do this."

"Thanks. But didn't you just check your updates on it this morning?"

"It will be different now. The discussion boards go frantic whenever there's news coverage."

In Izzy's room, Sharla logs into the account she's made on the computer and proceeds to check the sites in her favorites list. There's a whole slew of updates to sort through. Ninety-nine percent crap, but with thousands of posts that doesn't make the odds too bad. Just have to know where to start looking and what to follow up on.

"I can't believe people discuss this stuff," says Izzy.

"Eh. It's not really a new phenomenon. People are morbid, some more than others. Computers just make it easier for them to talk about it in great detail without scaring off people in their normal lives."

"Aren't they looking for recognition? What about if something they say helps solve the crime?"

"Some want recognition. Most are just curious, and want to meet others who want to talk about the same stuff. Hardly anyone uses their real name."

"Anonymity," says Izzy to herself, like she's testing how the word sounds.

"There's everyone in the chat rooms from paranoid parents to shock punks and gore freaks. Lots of conspiracy theorists who think the government's keeping all the good stuff to themselves."

"Are they?"

"Well, some files that are supposed to be confidential always seem to get leaked eventually. Someone who was close to the people involved would know more than they tell us on the news. Did you know the dude's nephew is missing?"

"Scribner's, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Do they think he's still alive?"

"Most people don't. He's seventeen, so at first there wasn't much panic 'cause he could have just run away. But he disappeared a few days before the body was found, and you'd think if your aunt died you'd let your parents know you were alive, even if you didn't get along. The popular theory is that he just happened to be there when Scribner snapped."

She scanned through the history and found the file she was looking for. A picture appears on the screen. "That's him. Brian Freewell. Scribner's sister's kid."

Brian has a more memorable appearance than his uncle, mainly because of long, badly-dyed black hair brushed forward so as to cover most of his face. A beak-like nose pokes through the fringe. But with a haircut, he'd be unidentifiable.

"Yeah, I'll keep an eye out for him," says Izzy.

"You can go back to your homework if you want."

"You sure?"

"I'm gonna be on here a while. I'll call you if I find anything interesting."

"Okay. Thanks."

Sharla runs "brian freewell" through a search engine and comes up with the official missing person notice, where he is listed as Brian FREEWELL, with a few sentences distilling him down to an age, weight and height. Nothing too useful, so she runs more searches of the Freewell/Scribner family.

_They make your last name allcaps if you disappear. _FREEWELL. FREE and WELL. Not likely_. _Or maybe he was named after like a well for water. Free water for everyone. It's a nice thought.

Sharla MACKENVOY. Meaning son of KENVOY, whoever KENVOY or his son may have been. It doesn't mean much to her. If she disappeared it wouldn't mean much. Hardly symbolic of anything, but she could do it just because. The police seem to be more dedicated to catching criminals that finding missing innocent people, and she's innocent, at least in the eyes of the law. She could change her hair and clothes. It's happened in the past – when she came back from summer with a different look, people wouldn't know who she was. Fake IDs aren't that hard to come by. Disappearing would be pretty easy.

Maybe not disappearing is harder.

She's all too grateful when a _ping _sound brings these thoughts to an abrupt halt. Someone from the chat room she was in has opened a new window for a private chat.

"**hey."**

This better be useful, not some loser middle-aged dude coming on to me.

"**Hi, who is this?" **she types back.

"**flyingcow808." **

"**I already saw yr screen name. a/s/l."**

"**fifteen/male/across the street from where the scribner family used to live."**

Her breath catches, and she reminds herself that this guy, if it really is a guy, is lying in all likelihood. She's already seen three people pretending to be Brian. Fingers shaking, she types, **"How did you find me?"**

"**i saw your posts on the forums and they caught my interest. then i saw that you'd also been on my blog. i hope it's okay i added you."**

"**Which is yr blog? I go to lots."**

"**angles & demons."**

"**I remember that one. Um, you know you misspelled angels?"**

"**it's actually meant to be angles. if you read the old entries, it used to have a lot more focus on trigonometry than it does now."**

"**Oh."**

"**so what about you?"**

"**??"**

"**a/s/l?"**

"**Oh, ok. 16/female/Coalbird."**

"**cool, we live in the same town. we might know each other."**

"**Yea, maybe. Just wondering, why are you interested in the Scribner thing? From yr blog it doesn't sound like the kind of stuff you'd be into."**

"**from your posts, it doesn't sound like you would be either. but i knew the people involved, and i try to make sure people aren't spreading lies about them."**

"**That makes sense." **Of course it does. He lived across the street from them, why wouldn't he be interested?

"**also, I think there might be demon involvement in what happened."**

"**Why? What kind of demon(s)?"**

"**are you by any chance izzy izoku?"**

"**No, why?"**

"**from what I've heard about her, you sound like her."**

"**People have told me that before. I'm her friend Sharla."**

"**hey, i remember you. you came to my house that time."**

"**Haru?"**

"**yay. i'm remembered."**

"**You knew the scribners?"**

"**i'm friends with their son."**

"**They have a son?"**

"**he's 13. he was sent to live with a foster family after what happened."**

"**You didn't answer my questions about the demons."**

"**right now I mostly have suspicions. the night it happened, i woke up panicked. i had this really weird feeling. i could sense magic, but something was really wrong with it."**

"**Just a second."**

"Izzy!"

"Yeah?" comes the answer through the walls.

"I found someone I think you'd like to talk to!"

**5**

"You're not going to die."

"What?"

"You're not dying."

"Where did that come from?"

"I don't know what planet you grew up on, but people here don't just go around saying things like that and not expecting anything to happen." Kyo's hands form fists in the pockets of his jacket.

Yuki's expression is blank. "Earth."

"What?"

"I grew up on Earth. Same as you, I assume."

"It was an expression."

"Not one I've heard."

"That's not the fucking point! How the hell can you be so calm about this? You're _dying._"

"You just said I wasn't."

"You know, I'm starting to remember why you piss me off. Here we are."

Yuki examines one of the red-string crosses, now standing a bit crooked in the dried mud. "What are these?"

"No idea. Do your amazing Chronorien senses tell you anything?"

Anger flares up in Yuki's eyes. "Do you have a problem with me being Chronorien?"

"It's killing you so… yeah."

"Why do you care?"

"Most of us don't need a reason to care! We'd rather if people we knew stayed alive!"

"Look, I know you can't understand. But being Chronorien is what and who I am. If I wasn't, I wouldn't be me."

"You're right," says Kyo. "I can't understand. And I'm glad, because it sounds like a stupid way to think."

"Is this all you wanted to show me?"

"This is where it happened. If you can't figure anything out from it, why don't you ask your ghost what she thinks?"

"I was just about to…" Yuki trails off.

Kyo doesn't say anything either. Twigs crunch under their feet as they search the area, hands held flat above their eyes in a salute to nothing, shielding them from the remaining rays of sunlight that set the clouds aflame behind the overlapping black forms of skeletal trees.

Yuki is the first to speak. "Maybe she passed on."

"We already know she's dead."

"I mean to another… place. Maybe she's at peace now, since they caught the man who took her life."

_Took her life. _What a strange euphemism. When Kyo thinks about what the words mean, it sounds even worse to him than saying the guy murdered her. Took her life. Stole her _life. _Not just stealing the things she needed to be alive, but the very state of being alive. The state of being at all, at least in this world.

"I… guess… so," he makes himself say, just because he can't think of another answer. He left space between the words in case anything better came to mind, but nothing did.

"I don't feel convinced either," says Yuki, shaking his head.

"Then why did you say it?"

"It makes sense. Maybe not to us, but to ghosts it could. They have a different perspective. Dying does that."

"I guess it would."

"Tell me, how do you know I'm not dying?"

Hadn't Yuki been avoiding this topic? Maybe he just prefers it to talking about his ghost. "I just… know."

"Just like that." Yuki looks up at the fiery sky, and Kyo is grateful to have his eyes directed away from him.

"I won't let you."

"We both know that's not enough." Yuki smiles. "But thank you."


	14. 13: Some Song part one

Some Song

(part one)

Thank you Vikertee for your review.

Chapter title comes from a song by Elliot Smith. This was not supposed to be the whole chapter, but it is as much as I can post before I go off to writing camp for a week, and since I'd rather not wait that long to post what I've got, I'm making this a two-part double chapter.

**1**

"And where are you going?" Lihi stands in the doorway, arms crossed.

"We're meeting someone, mom," says Izzy.

"Someone you know?"

"Sort of."

"How sort of?"

"By reputation..." Lihi wants more. "Of him being... sort of... a demon summoner."

"I'm coming with you."

"What? Mom, you'll scare him away!"

"Bring someone."

"I'm bringing Sharla." Izzy's mom continues to stare her down. Izzy throws up her hands. "Fine! I'll call someone else as well!" As Izzy stomps off towards the phone, Lihi smiles. Sharla returns the expression apologetically from the couch, then turns back to the tv.

**2**

John's body is folded into a strange but comfortable position as he sits on the floor of his bedroom. The floor is soft and lumpy and rather odd smelling, all due to it being composed of piles of old clothing that his mom had dug up to give away, then changed her mind about.

He's staring at the screen of his ancient laptop, refreshing his email while simultaneously attempting to fantasize about his screensaver. She's got long, wavy light-blond hair, pale skin, a lot of black eye make-up. She's not slutty, though. He likes that about her. She's wearing a black t-shirt, camouflage pants, a spiked belt. He wishes people at school would dress like that. Other people besides him. What he also likes about her is that she's the lead singer of a metal band, and one of the best death-grunters he's ever heard, even with her being a chick and all.

Yeah, he'd meet her on the street, and then... no, wait, they'd meet at... she'd be at his house, just because. She doesn't need a reason, it's a fantasy. And his mom and step-dad would be out, so the two of them would have the place to themselves. And it would be that time just before it got dark, so everything would be cool and shadowy and the light that came in from outside would be orange and yellow.

The lights in his house would be off, because he hates them. They overload his senses. In his next life he should be something nocturnal.

Anyway. Music would be playing, bass thumping the floorboards. They'd feel it through their socks as they sat on the couch. And then they'd...

And then they'd.

And then they'd.

...talk about music?

Screw it. This isn't working. Although he can imagine their conversation in great detail, there really isn't anything sexy about it. Maybe he just isn't the kind of guy who's good thinking up these things.

Something falls off his desk with a soft thud, and he shuts the laptop and reaches for the object. His fingers close around a vibrating cell phone. How long's that been going off? He snaps it open and holds it to his ear. "Hey."

"Hi. It's Izzy."

It takes him a moment to think of who he knows with that name. Girl Izzy? He doesn't know her last name, or even her real first name, so that's exactly how he asks. "Girl Izzy?"

"Yeah."

Now that he knows who this is, he can tell it's a girl's voice. She sounds different on the phone. "What's up?"

"You want to go somewhere?"

"Like where?"

"Sharla and I are going down by the Scribner house."

That sounds morbid as hell, but what else has he got to do? "Sure." Who knows? Maybe getting out of this place will do him some good.

**3**

"Your mom has confusing rules," says Sharla.

"Tell me about it," says Izzy.

"She actually seems pretty cool to me," says John.

Sharla says, "Yeah, she is, I never said she wasn't. I mean, it was awesome of her to let me stay with Izzy and everything. But like, with Izzy being a Tracker and all, and Izzy's mom is all for it, but she makes her bring people with her if she's going out late."

"She knows I can handle myself around demons," says Izzy. "People she's not so sure about."

It's a cold, cloudy night. The three teenagers all wear multiple hoodies, hands making hidden shapes in their pockets as they walk.

"Demons, huh?" says John nonchalantly.

"You know," says Izzy. "The minor kinds, she trusts me with. Blaus and shit. I recently ran into some Children of Firebridge, but I've kept that quiet. If she knew how much I screwed up when I faced them, she'd throw a..." Izzy's eyes grow wide, shining in the sparse light as she trails off. "Kyo told you about the demons, didn't he?"

"Nope," says John, still as calm as if they'd been talking about the weather.

"Shitshitshitshitshit_fuck!_"

"Don't worry about it. There's a lot of stuff Kyo doesn't tell me. I kind of figured, anyway."

Sharla eyes him incredulously. "You kind of figured your friend was a demon?"

"Well, you know, I've got theories about a bunch of stuff. I read the internet, too, so I know quite a bit about these things. Like how the world's ending in twenty-twelve and all."

Neither Izzy nor Sharla know what to say to that.

"Oh, you guys didn't know? I kind of assumed you would, since you know about the demons and all. Well, basically, some planet is going to come into our solar system, and it's going to throw everything out of balance. There's gonna be tons of natural disasters, and the temperature will rise so the government will make us all go underground – they know about this, the government, but they don't tell us. Since we're the next generation, they'll take us away from our families to join their colonies." John laughs. "But I'm not going. I'll be like one of those guys in the action movies, thinking like the camera's right behind me, and I won't die because I'm the main character. I won't die because I can't die."

After a long silence, Izzy says, "Wow. You're crazy. Interesting, but crazy."

He shrugs. "Yep, probably. But I was right about the demons, so you never know."

A flash of white catches Izzy's eye, and the others turn to see what she's looking at. Haru is sitting on a city bench, looking like he's posing for a photo. No, not posing, decides Sharla. He's just one of those very photographable people, unlike most people who look odd or boring in a one-moment out-of-context snapshot. Sharla instantly envies him.

He looks up at them, raising a hand in acknowledgement. As they come towards him he stands up, shakes first Sharla's hand and then Izzy's and John's. "Hey. Thanks for coming. I'm Haru."

"You're the angles and demons guy!" says John. "Great blog, by the way, man."

"Thanks. I try."

Sharla look off down the street. "So, that's the house? Over there?" She doesn't need to ask, but it seems like it needs to be said. The house in question is plain and small and brown, identical to the others on the block. Or it used to be. Now a significant portion of the roof is missing, as though some creature took a bite out of it. Dried mud is caked onto the sides of the structure, peeling like old snakeskin, and walls are caving in. Yellow police tape and orange KEEP OUT signs ring the area, but no officers are on guard.

"Let's go," announces John, and they do.

Haru takes the lead, neatly overstepping the police tape and making his way to the front door. He turns the tarnished brass doorknob, and the door opens with the stock "creak" sound effect of every horror movie ever made.

Haru reaches into his pocket and draws out a fluorescent green thing the size and shape of a playing card. He holds it in front of him and lets go. It hovers in the air for a few seconds before fragmenting into what looks like a thousand green fireflies, which form a cloud around the visitors and light up the room.

"Fuckin' hard_core,"_ says John. Haru gives a small appreciative smile before turning serious again.

It's worse inside. The house is filled with damaged and overturned furniture. Trails of insects march along over countertops. Broken household machines expose coloured wires and chips that look like cities from the view out an airplane window. Underneath the missing roof, bundles of twigs have appeared atop lamps and bookcases. Birds' nests. A song starts to play in Sharla's head. _Life goes on._ She only knows the chorus so it repeats ad nauseum.

"And what was your first clue this might have involved demons?" says Izzy.

Haru seems to miss the irony in Izzy's tone. "Like I said, I just had a feeling that night that something was off. And then I woke up to this. I'm still not certain, though."

"How would a _person _have done something like this?" says Sharla.

"Angry people can be destructive," says Haru.

"Ripping-off-roofs destructive?"

"It's possible."

"If demons did this, we're dealing with something big," says Izzy, unnecessarily. "Probably one of the more animalistic varieties."

Haru says, "Yeah, I'm also leaning away from fungal and vegetable demons."

Izzy continues, "I'm thinking a vengeance motive."

"That would explain the brutality, but there isn't anything ritualistic about this that I can see."

"Territory, then?"

"It doesn't look like anyone's come to claim it."

Haru and John go to search the basement, and Izzy and Sharla take upstairs. The things Izzy finds are commonplace – kitchen utensils, plates, cabinets and beds, a computer that Sharla agrees is too decimated to extract any data from. There are a few books with titles like "_Understanding Your Child_" and "_Life With Learning Disabilities_." Framed photos show Michael, Angela, and a smiling blond boy.

Izzy says, "Hey, Sharla. This is the kid Haru was talking about, right? Have you seen his picture anywhere before?" She whispers it, because this seems like a place where one should whisper. When she gets no response, she repeats herself at a normal volume. Still no response.

"Sharla!" Nothing. "Come on, Sharla, you're starting to freak me out! Are you there?"

Panic begins to grows inside her like a horrible plant, digging its roots into her heart and blooming inside her throat, blocking her airways. She searches the room, but doesn't find Sharla. _I must have gotten separated from her. I'll retrace my steps. Just like Scooby-doo. _

The fireflies seem to have disappeared, and Izzy has to feel her way around wherever lights from the streetlamps don't reach. She stumbles over something in the hallway and crashes to her knees. When she looks back to check what she's tripped over, Izzy sees a person lying on the floor. "Sharla!"

The returning silence fertilizes the plant, but when Izzy kneels down beside her friend, she hears her breathing and can see Sharla's chest rising and falling. For some reason Izzy checks Sharla's pulse, and that's there as well. "What the hell, Shar? Wake up."

When she gets nothing, Izzy hides her fear behind a groan of frustration and picks Sharla up over her shoulder. Izzy's not particularly strong, but Sharla's light, and easy if awkward to carry. She puts Sharla down on the sofa in the living room, one of the legs of the piece of furniture giving out as soon as Sharla touches it, causing a short scream from Izzy.

"Okay, I'll go downstairs and find Haru and John, we'll take Sharla home, she's just tired, everything will be fine." Yes, she's talking to herself. It's better than the quiet. Even the moaning of the stairs as she descends is better than the quiet.

But no response from Haru or John as she calls their names. After searching several rooms, she catches sight of two green lights coming from somewhere on the floor. She draws closer.

She finds Haru and John, green fireflies scattered over and around their sleeping faces.

**4**

Kyo has this recurring dream. It's a great dream, his favorite, actually. In it he's the only person in the world. He's skateboarding over the freshly paved streets of a nearby city, going up and down over the waves in the smooth blackness. That's what it's like, waves, so smooth his deck hardly shakes under his feet as he travels. There's no worries of moving cars, so he can go where he wants, however fast, without looking too much around corners. The cars that are there can be used for jumps. Sometimes he'll stand on them just for the hell of it, and set off car alarms, and then he'll skate off into the distance, the sound fading out behind him.

The dream melts into reality, and Kyo awakens to bright sunlight filling his room like liquid. A wave. Light is a particle wave, isn't it? He recalls the term from the studying he'd done over at Marcus's house. He'd been planning to ask his science teacher to explain more about the term yesterday, but he'd never gotten around to it.

Yesterday was a Wednesday. The significance of this is slow to dawn on him. When it does, it hits like a bucket of ice water, bringing him to full wakefullness. Skin cold, he throws off the blankets and slams a hand down on his alarm clock to punish it for not going off. The red dot on the side of the screen is blinking. It's supposed to do that when the radio is playing. He had set it to go off, then. Of course he had. But he must have bumped against it and switched it to a station with nothing on it.

Or else it's malfunctioning. It's old. It's probably broken _now _anyway. He did hit it pretty hard.

Soon, bus stop. He's missed the bus he was supposed to take, but one comes every fifteen minutes. Better to be late than not go at all, even his teachers have to admit that.

A half-hour later, still no bus. The driver's probably some asshole who skipped off to go do whatever the hell he felt like. He's probably driving the bus through fast food drive-throughs right now, or trying to pick up chicks in it.

Kyo walks back home, gets his skateboard, and heads off to school, fully aware it would have been a faster journey if he'd just walked from the bus stop. But by skating, at least he has something to focus his energy on rather than being pissed off, which would only end up making him do something he'd get in trouble for when he actually got to school.

When he's finally there, he can't help doing a couple grinds down the handrail, as a big eff-you to the NO SKATEBOARDING sign someone's tacked up. When he's done with that, he puts his board into his backpack, walks back up the stairs, and tries the door. It doesn't budge.

After trying all the doors in the school, he's still locked out, and no one answers when he knocks or rings the bells. He presses his face up against the windows. Nobody walking around inside.

Maybe today's some kind of holiday?

Sitting down on a bench, he calls Ian on his cell phone to ask. Answering machine. Kyo hates leaving messages, never knows what the hell to say, so he just hangs up. Calls John. Answering machine. Marcus. The school. Even Haru. Answering machines. As he scrolls through his contact list, he notices Yuki is on there. What the hell. He presses phone.

"Hello?"

"I could fucking hug you."

"Who is this?"

"Oh. Right. It's Kyo."

"Oh, hello Kyo. I'm glad you called."

"Glad you answered. So, uh, I think something weird's going on."

"I was about to say the same thing."

"I'm at the school right now. You want to meet by the coffee place down the street?"

"I'll go get my bike. See you in about fifteen minutes."

**5**

As Yuki opens his front door, the tree demon in his yard stretches out tentacle-like branches in his direction. Yuki, unsurprised (he notices when fifty-foot high trees materialize in the center of his yard overnight), promptly slams the door on the tendrils, snapping them off with a crunching sound. The detached branches thrash about on his floor before curling up and then lying still, and the tree demon draws back with a hissing sound.

When Yuki opens the door again, the tree is completely motionless. "I know what you are!" Yuki calls up to it, since he's not exactly sure where it hears from.

The tree slumps in response. Aside from its size and the fact that it's sentient, it's quite an unremarkable tree – long thick branches covered in layered grey-brown bark and a sparse helping of yellowish needles. It's a rather unhealthy looking tree, actually.

"What are you doing here?" Yuki shouts.

"_At least speak your proper language, boy," _says the tree in a deep, rasping voice. _"Is that how you communicate with foreigners, here? Yell at them in languages they don't understand?"_

"_You tried to eat me. I'm not in a very culturally sensitive mood."_

"_How rude! I never intended to __eat __you. I happen to be a vegetarian."_

"_Wouldn't that make you a cannibal?"_

"_Yes. And I only planned on killing you and making you into a hat. Much more civilized than __eating __you."_

"_I'd still be dead."_

"_Yes, well, we all must make sacrifices for fashion. Understand, I presumed you were a human upon first sight. Honest mistake."_

"_You still haven't answered my first question. What are you doing here?"_

"_I just explained, I was going to make you-"_

"_No, I mean, what are all of you doing here? Demons are everywhere today, not even bothering to blend in."_

As if to demonstrate Yuki's point, a trio of dragonbirds pass by overhead, loudly belching flames. The tree swats at one of the birds that attempts to land on a branch, scaring it away, but not before a coughing fit ignites said branch. The tree demon curses as it shakes the fire out. _"Apologies for my language. I have allergies, I swell up so-"_

"_Answer the question."_

"_Why are we all out today? I suppose it's a combination of factors, really. The nice weather – finally an end to that rain! -, the abundance of magical energies in the air around here lately, the mysterious unconsciousness of all the humans in your town-"_

"_Mysterious unconsciousness?"_

"_Will you stop interrupting me? You may be a Chronorien demon, but even royalty isn't above common manners. And yes, mysterious unconsciousness. You didn't hear?"_

"_Hear what?"_

"_About the mysterious unconsciousness! Must I repeat everything? Nobody has seen a conscious human in your town all day. It's a marvelous opportunity to vacation without threat of confrontation, not to mention, to those less enlightened than myself, a chance for a free meal or two."_

"_Why are they unconscious?"_

"_Nobody knows. That's why they call it a __mysterious __unconsciousness. Goodness, you're a slow one." _

With those words, the tree uproots itself, tearing up large segments of Yuki's lawn in the process, and runs away with surprising speed.

After retrieving his bike from the garage and donning his helmet, Yuki takes off towards Kyo and the coffee shop, dodging small foul-smelling albino sewer demons that are wandering dazedly through the light they've probably never experienced in their lives before.

When he gets there, Kyo's not outside. Looking through the glass of the shop, he sees the orange-haired boy sitting at a table, sipping a black beverage from a transparent cup that looks to hold about two liters. Yuki tries the door, but nothing happens. He knocks, and Kyo looks towards him, rising to his feet and opening the door.

"You're right on time," says Kyo.

"How did you get in?"

"I used to work here. I have a key." He offers the black beverage to Yuki. "Want some?"

"What is it?" It's got a strong smell. Not alcoholic, but powerful enough to be dizzying.

"We're in a coffee shop. What do you think it is?"

"There's no way that concoction is meant for human consumption."

"Oh, so now you're lumping yourself in with the humans for once?"

Yuki ignores the inflammatory question, making a point of not showing his annoyance. Kyo continues, "Whatever. Anyway, it's the leftover coffee no one ever buys. The strong stuff, not the sugary crap with ten-syllable fake Italian names." Yuki refrains from mentioning his surprise at Kyo knowing what a syllable is.

Kyo jumps over the counter and begins the rifle around. For someone so obsessed with proving he's human, he's certainly animal-like at times. "Looking to rob the cash register?" says Yuki.

"Funny." Kyo emerges, holding up an aerosol can in one hand and a pitcher of the awful coffee in the other. "We can survive off this stuff for a while. We've got food and water."

"Whipped cream isn't a food."

Kyo points to the nutrition information and shoves the can up to Yuki's face. "It's got calories. That makes it food."

Yuki slaps Kyo's hand away, and with a sigh sits down at the table and begins to hold the set-out cutlery at different angles, bouncing the reflecting sunlight off the walls. "We have to think about this logically," he says finally.

"All I know is that everyone's disappeared except us," says Kyo.

"They're unconscious," says Yuki. "At least, that's what a tree told me."

It's always an odd experience to say things like that and get no reaction but an understanding nod. At least, Yuki assumes it will always be an odd experience. It hasn't really happened up until now. He says, "Whatever this is, it doesn't affect demons. Or part-demons. That's why we were spared."

"And why there's a purple bear eating that van outside."

Yuki looks out the window to the sight of exactly that. Kyo begins to move towards the door, but Yuki grabs him by the arm. "Are you crazy? You'd risk your life over someone else's car?"

"I don't give a shit about the van. Look inside."

Through the missing chunk of a tinted-glass window, Yuki sees a sleeping toddler in a car seat, oblivious to the brightly-coloured elephant-sized creature nearly toppling the vehicle with each munch. Without another word, the two boys are out the door.

Yuki both admires the bravery and flinches at the stupidity as Kyo grabs the bear around its thick, furry neck, only to be thrown into the air, falling to the ground after connecting with the side of another vehicle.

"_Back off. Mine," _says the bear.

"_As a Chronorien demon, I order you to leave that child alone," _says Yuki.

"First of all, I'm not from your world or anything it governs, so you can't pull rank on me. Secondly, what child?"

"The one in the van you're eating."

"Exactly. I'm eating a van. Not a child. Get it?"

"Yuki, what are you doing?" calls Kyo as he pulls himself into a standing position using the car as support. "Are you talking to that thing?"

"Your spouse if very rude," huffs the bear. "And so are you."

"He's not my spouse," says Yuki, grateful Kyo can't seem to understand the exchange. He'd throw a fit, probably, at the idea of what the bear had just insinuated.

Or maybe not. It's hard to tell with him. In the time they've spent around each other recently, Yuki has been forced to re-evaluate his opinion of Kyo as a simplistic person. He's quite confusing, even complicated at times. Whatever that means.

And the time their minds had met...

No, this is the worst time imaginable to be thinking about such things.

Yuki says, "So you actually just eat vans?"

"Why is that so hard for you to understand? The youngling is all yours. Go ahead, enjoy your meal, just stop bothering me."

"I'm not going to eat a baby."

"Whatever. If you won't shut up, I'll take this to go."

Yuki reaches in the window and removes the sleeping infant just in time before the bear spreads leathery hot-pink wings with a span the length of a city bus and flutters up into the air, landing on the van's roof with a thump and causing the vehicle to bend as though it were made from boiled asparagus and not galvanized steel. The demon digs its claws through the metal roof of the vehicle and carries it away into the sky.

"That was really weird," says Kyo.

"Yes, it was."

"Let's get the kid inside."

Back in the coffee shop, Yuki sees that aside from a small scrape on his elbow, Kyo is uninjured despite the bear's attack. Noticing Yuki looking at it, Kyo says, "That's 'cause of martial arts training. Learning how to fall safely and all that."

"At least one of us has some self-defense skills."

"It's not self-defense I'm worried about," says Kyo. "It's stuff like what just happened. Other people." He slams a fist down on the table, causing his black beverage to explode upwards in its cup, a bit splashing out. "Dammit! What are we supposed to do? I can fight, but I can't handle a whole town full of demons!"

Yuki looks down at the child on his lap, ears sticking out under a Winnie-The-Pooh hat. He wants to do whatever the right thing is to do with kids, but he doesn't know what that is. Truth be told, they've always made him a bit uncomfortable, really little kids like this. More accurately, his level of cluelessness about them makes him uncomfortable. The best thing is probably to let the kid sleep. He can't go wrong with that, can he?

He looks up at a beeping sound coming from Kyo's direction. The other boy has got a cell-phone out and is repeating the process of pressing a button, holding the machine to his ear for a few seconds, then looking down at it again.

"Who are you calling?" says Yuki.

"Everyone. Maybe someone in my contact list has some demon blood. It's a long shot, but if we're all doomed a phone bill doesn't really make my list of concerns."

"Can I make a call?"

"When I'm done." A few calls later, Kyo gets an expression on his face that Yuki can't identify.

Yuki says, "What's happening?"

"Someone's picking up."

**6**

Izzy runs through the empty street, long legs carrying her in hot pursuit of the marionette demon she had found attempting to use the long enchanted strings from which it got its name reach through a barely-open window and feed on the life energy of the house's sleeping occupants. From the back, the demon looks quite human, its thin build clothed in a white t-shirt and grey sweat pants. From the front is a different story. It hadn't even bothered to hide its face behind the usual sunglasses and bandanna, or even a hood, and when Izzy had come upon it, its fiery eye-slits and black hole mouth were fully visible in its bluish-white, noseless face.

The marionette demon turns and hisses at her, spraying a slew of blue poison into the air. Izzy releases the shield spell she'd stored in a small ring hooked to her glasses just in time. As the tiny piece of metal is thrown into the air and connects with the cloud of blue droplets, an invisible barrier forms around Izzy, curving the path of the blue so that it misses her by several feet from any side.

The demon's next hiss is obviously a swear word in its own language, for the delay has given Izzy the time to significantly close the gap between them, and its poison stores will take several days to replenish.

She reaches out a hand and just grazes the back of its billowing t-shirt. Blood is pumping in her ears with anticipation. If she can catch this demon, it will be the proof she needs that she is a worthy Tracker. Her fight or flight adrenaline is taking over her, and she's choosing fight.

She grabs at the demon again, and but this time the creature turns to face her, and a spindly arm slams into her stomach with surprising force, throwing her onto her back. Her vision clouds. The pain hasn't hit yet, but she knows it will be bad.

Rather than attempt to kill her, the demon continues to run while Izzy attempts to right herself, breath coming in gasps, feeling like an overturned turtle.

The ground underneath her is shaking. At first she thinks it is just her shaking, but as a roaring fills her ears she knows it's the ground. Back on her feet, Izzy catches a glimpse of the demon before it grabs onto the passing train and is whisked away.

Sprinting, Izzy makes it to one of the last storage cars attached to the locomotive, and no options go through her mind but to grab on to the ladder-like attachment to the side of it. Her leg twists painfully as she does so, and her arms feel like they are about to be ripped off, but she keeps her grip, the wind whipping at her, carrying her and tossing her around like she's a streamer.

Train fight. Just like in Buffy. She tries not to think about how the slayer in that scene ended up an ingredient in Spike's smoothie.


	15. 13: Some Song part two

Some Song

(part two)

-- thank you, Vikertee --

Izzy presses her body to the side of the train, fighting for control against the sharp wind. Her muscles strain as she ascends the ladder to the top of the car, where she grips the ridges of the rusted roof. Tentatively, she tries to stand, and finds that stooped low, angled sideways to reduce wind resistance, she can manage it. Trees and rocky earth rush past like rivers of green and grey.

She runs through the list of spells she knows. It doesn't take long. A mobile enclosure spell seems her best bet, and even that is costly. She has her doubts as she utters the incantation, unable to hear her own voice over the rumblings of the machine, old wheels over old track, the constant onslaught of air, but once the last syllable has passed her lips, doubt, noise and wind have all faded to whispers. An invisible bubble surrounding her, standing and moving have returned to their usual level of thoughtless ease. Scrubbing gritty dust from her eyes, she looks ahead. The marionette demon is nowhere in sight.

Damn. She'll have to use a detection spell, then. That will mean the total depletion of her already-low magical energy stores. Nevertheless, in this moment it sounds like the only option.

The sudden drop in energy feels like being forced underwater, but Izzy cheers aloud as a shimmering purple cloud appears before her. The gaseous blob begins to move, first slowly but quickly accelerating, along the top of the cars. Izzy has to jog to keep up with it, jumping the distance between roofs. Somehow, the faster she does it, the less dangerous it becomes in her mind.

It seems like she's run several blocks by the time the glow slows, then settles atop a car. By the time Izzy's caught up with it, it's melted a hole through the metal sheets. _Okay, it isn't supposed to do that... oops. _

But despite that, the spell worked perfectly. Through the opening, she sees the demon, sitting atop one of many crates, rasping as it tries unsuccessfully to swat away the violet smog encasing it.

In search of a weapon, Izzy wrenches a metal support beam from the roof. It's too heavy, and slips from her grasp, nearly bringing her down with it. A distinct clunk, followed by a screech, let her know it wasn't crate that the beam landed on. Once she's pulled herself back up, she looks down to see the marionette demon looking directly at her, eye-slits burning laser-red. _Oooooh, shit. _

The enclosure spell is one of the weaker variations of the shield spell, about as effective as a windproof mesh net. Even a rock can penetrate it, and it's really no help during a fight situation.

A tendril flies at her, and she manages to repel it with slaps before it wraps around her wrist and yanks her down. She grabs unseeing at everything in reach, gets something wooden in her free hand and holds on for dear life. The stringy appendage is unrelenting, and when she feels like she'll be torn in two, right down the middle, the piece of wood breaks off and she tumbles down, flat on her front onto splintery crates.

She's still being pulled, dragged along. And – she checks – yup, she's still got the piece of wood in her hands. Okay then. She forces herself to stand, digs her heels in. For the moment, her and the demon are evenly matched, her unmoving, the string taut. It must have absorbed quite a bit of energy, because usually the strings are weak...

Wait a minute. It's _her _energy the thing's been extracting! She checks her wrist, connected to a hand swollen dark purple, and sees the tendril pulsing unpleasantly, like a leech or overfed mosquito.

Brimming with new anger, she swings the piece of wood down on the tendril. A banshee shriek fills the air as the string snaps, and she unravels the limp cord from around her arm and tosses it up through the ceiling, the wind instantly whisking it from view.

The demon's other three strings draw into tiny lumps on the back of its neck. Arms swinging, it charges at her. She's ready, socking it in the chest with the plank. The demon crashes back into the wall, but comes at her again, this time sidestepping her attack and getting in a kick to her ribs. It hurts like hell, but she blocks it from her mind and splits the plank over the demon's bald head, then attempts to stab the creature with the new, jagged end of the weapon. The assault seems completely ineffective, but she does it again, and again, fragments of wood breaking off with each shove.

The demon's coughs and ragged breaths are filling the whole car, rough and loud as a thunderstorm. A gross, phlegmy thunderstorm. There's hardly any purple left in the air, as it seems to have all been inhaled.

The demon launches a sweeping kick, which Izzy jumps over, before it is immobilized by another coughing fit. She resumes stabbing it. Stab stab. Stabbity stab.

With a massive cough that leaves Izzy's ears ringing, the demon... ruptures. The wooden plank breaks past as if the demon has suddenly turned to tissue paper, surprising her so much she lets go. The piece of wood passes right through the demon, out its back and onto the crates, clattering, then silent.

The demon too is silent, looking down at itself. Izzy can see right through it. The marionette demon is hollow.

Throwing back its head, the demon shrieks at the sky, at a volume and pitch that seem to make the car rattle even more and sends Izzy to her knees, clutching her ears. The ripped edges glow, smolder, and this spreads over the entire creature, until it has become entirely grey, then crumbles to the ground as a pile of ash.

The purple mist hovers in the air, and, despite being a purple mist and all, looks to Izzy somehow pleased before dissipating.

_Note to self: never piss of a blob of purple gas. _

An odd sound is coming from under her feet. Is that... _clucking? _She peers through a gap in the boards. The crates are full of chickens.

She climbs back onto the roof, down the ladder, then jumps into the softest looking group of bushes in view. The momentum is incredible, and she tries to roll so as to reduce injury rather than fight it. When she's stopped, she takes a moment to lie still and look up as the world spins. It's a grey day. She laughs, spits out the leaves that have somehow ended up in her mouth, sits up.

The whole town is asleep, and she would love nothing more than to join them. To close her eyes and be away from all the excitement, to stop being aware of the new aches in her body, to give into post-fight relief, just know that she survived and be content with that. But she can't. That's what it means to be a Tracker. She smiles as Lihi's voice fills her head.

She feels slightly more like herself when the digital trills of her cell phone fill the quiet, country air. She answers it instinctively, before she realizes the strangeness of the everyday occurrence occurring _this _day.

"Hello?"

"Hello?"

"Yeah?"

"Izzy?"

"Uh huh?"

"It's Kyo."

"Hi."

"Where are you?"

She looks around herself. "Somewhere like the outskirts of town."

"Listen, me and Yuki are at the coffee shop by school. You think you can meet us here?"

"It might take a while, but sure."

"How long?"

"An hour?" An hour is the usual estimate of how long it takes to run from one end of Coalbird to the other.

"Okay. Do, uh, you have any idea what's going on?"

"Everyone's out of it and demons are everywhere. As to what's causing it, no."

"Oh. Well, see you..." On Izzy's side, something crashes loudly. "What was that?"

"I don't know."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'll see you soon. Bye."

She hangs up, pushed the phone back into the pocket of her jacket and takes off towards the direction the sound came from. The same way the train was going.

The first few cars – the ones at the back of the train – that she sees look perfectly fine, although they've stopped moving. Up ahead, black plumes of smoke billow towards the sky.

They're coming out of the front car – is it still called a car? – the one that had been pulling everything. The engine. She pulls the collar of her shirt over her mouth. The crash must have been only minutes ago. The engine and first few cars are lying on their sides. The air is as thick with animal noises as it is with eye-stinging smoke.

She finds two men, unconscious, of course, thrown from the train, bruised and scraped but mercifully alive. She drags them from under their arms into a nearby, unlocked barn. Buildings are generally equipped with charms to dissuade lower level demons from entering, so anything is better than leaving them lying around outside. Back at the train, she sees the fire has engulfed almost the entire first car. It's a damp, cold day, and all she can do is pray that the dew on the grass keeps the flames from spreading too far before rain returns. Standing so close to the blaze, watching tongues of flame explore metal and cracklingly latch onto anything wooden, makes her skin feel like it is covered in shrinking, melted wax.

She walks from car to car, pulling free loose boards of crates and letting the animals inside escape. She doesn't know what else to do. Pigs, chickens, goats, horses and cows fill the field, looking around with wide-eyed wonder, shaken-up confusion and aggression, or complete indifference.

Izzy feels like she's in a surrealist landscape painting as she watches, in the distance, a loch ness monster look-alike coil around a cow and drag it down into the lake.

If worse comes to worse, the animals will distract some of the demons from targeting humans.

She takes a deep breath and starts to run towards the coffee shop, careful never to get too close to the lake.

**7**

To Yuki, his brother's voice seems to take up space, crashing into everything in sight, and he wonders if calling Ayame was really the right choice. He has to admit, though, even if Ayame's magical abilities are in question, his leadership skills are not. Maybe he inherited them from his father – their father. Anything's possible, and Yuki has no idea what the man was like. Ayame might know. Yuki's afraid to ask.

By the time Izzy arrives – breathing hard, (non-intentional-looking) rips in her clothes, and, for some reason, a few small white feathers entangled in her sorbet-coloured hair – Ayame has decided that he, Kyo, and Izzy will be the first group to go out and explore, while Mine and Yuki stay here and plan, collect any nearby resources, and look after sleeping people. To Yuki's relief, Mine turns out to be quite maternal, taking the baby out of his hands and proceeding to change its – his – diaper with no complaints, fashioning a clean one out of a cloth napkin and dropping the old one in the garbage can outside. She rocks the sleeping child back and forth in her arms, like she's done this a thousand times before.

**8**

It's the end of the world and Kyo, definitely, does not feel fine. He expresses this. "What if this is, like, the apocalypse or something?"

"If it is," says Izzy, "the apocalypse is lame. Besides, it's only our town that this thing seems to be affecting. There's some kind of barrier around us."

"Fascinating!" says Ayame. "And did this barrier strike you as a new device or some more traditional, even archaic, piece of magic?"

"It struck me as a 'whoa. That thing knocked over a train and set it on fire. I'm not getting too close' type of device," says Izzy.

"A shame. Why, I remember one instance from my childhood when dear Yuki, still an infant, managed to create a complex energy dome utilizing nothing but squashed peas – a bit unorthodox, it may seem, but the high priest of Latinia I have heard uses much the same design..."

Izzy says to Kyo, "Stop stressing about it so much."

"What?"

"Aya. He's not that hard to just tune out."

Kyo finds himself doing exactly that. As they show Yuki's brother the gas station, irrigation canal, fields, grain elevators, houses, and shops, he responds to each one by launching into some convoluted and incoherent story, and the only way to stay sane is to ignore him. Luckily, Ayame is oblivious to being ignored, and continues talking even when Izzy and Kyo are having their own completely different conversations on the side.

When they happen upon three kinjali demons in an alley, miraculously the three (mostly) humans manage to all fend for themselves. Kyo unleashes several hard punches, each hitting the spiny chest of the seven-foot-tall creature, making a cracking noise. He then grabs the dangling, stretchy proboscis, yanking the kinjali's long and flat face down low enough to kick between its two yellowed, slit-pupiled eyes. The eyes close and the creature topples backwards heavily.

The one Izzy has taken on is the only one to be armed. Well, it was. Izzy has wrestled the staff, made of some sort of purple metal, from its grasp and is swinging it around wildly. _"Stupid human. Your kind can never access the powers of a kinjali opal-" _The demon is silenced when the staff crashes down on its head, right between its goat-like ears, shattering into lilac shards and scattering all over the pavement. The kinjali's eyes roll back and Izzy barely avoids being crushed as the massive creature falls forward.

The two teenagers stand off to the side and watch as Ayame, somehow having acquired a longsword, squares off against his opponent. He's very agile, his hair and robes swirling around him as he moves. The pair seem evenly matched, the demon using its spike-covered, hoofed arms much the same way as swords, and the two dodge and parry blows far more often than any attacks actually hit. Ayame looks to be quite enjoying himself, and by the few odd phrases that make it over the din of their combat, it appears he's still telling his stories.

"...hardly appropriate headwear for a go-go dancer..." The demon pushes past his sword, knocking Ayame backwards, but he quickly regains balance and jumps out of the way before the follow-up arm-swing can connect.

"...It came to me I'd discovered the surreptitious spinach compilation..." Ayame lunges forward and cuts upwards with the sword, then abruptly changes direction so that he's attacking from the side. The strike glances off the kinjali's shoulder-spikes, and it retaliates with a headbutt. Ayame's free hand darts out and pushes against the demons head, its horns centimeters away from piercing his chest. He's visibly straining, and takes several slow steps backwards.

Abruptly he lets go, ducks, and the demon rushes forward, knocking him to the ground and stumbling about in confusion for a few seconds. That's all the time Ayame needs. Sword raised, he runs at the demon, swings, and leaves a deep gash in its chest. "Just like Mary Poppins!" he concludes exultantly. The kinjali looks down at itself, disbelief strangely recognizable on its face as it stares down at the wound, which has begun to leak chemical-green blood. It raises its hand-hooves to the injury, as though trying to stop the relentless outpour but failing to do anything but appear more pathetic. Ayame (out of pity?) raises his weapon once more, and with a single, expert stab penetrates another, lower area of the chest. The creature's noise and struggle instantly stops, and it falls to the ground amongst the other two kinjali.

Ayame examines his sword, walks over to a patch of soil and digs the blade into the ground, withdraws it clean. He gently presses a finger to the tip of the weapon and before their eyes, the sword shrinks, like he is pushing it into itself. When he is finished, it is a silvery ring, which he slips onto his index finger.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?" says Kyo.

"Oh, around," says Ayame, suddenly no longer talkative.

Izzy picks something up off the ground, holds it up in the air. It's some sort of iridescent purple orb. "This was on the end of that stick – staff – that the kinjali demon was holding. Any idea what it is?"

Ayame takes it from her, trails his fingertips over it, examines at it from different angles. "It's some sort of spellstone," he says.

"Opal," says Kyo.

The others turn to look at him.

"The demon... said... something. About it being that. A kinjali opal."

Izzy looks at him, momentarily awestruck. "You understood what it was saying?"

"Just for a moment. I don't know, that's never happened before. It was weird, okay?" He looks Ayame in the eye. "What's a kinjali opal? What does that mean?"

The older man shakes his head. "I don't know. I've never heard the term. Wait a moment." He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, mouth forming barely audible words in the ancient language. There is a sudden flash of white light, and he flies several meters into the air, limbs flailing, then lands clumsily but safely on his feet.

"Was that supposed to happen?" says Kyo.

"No, of course not. I was trying to teleport back to where I live, to get a book on spellstones - but something blocked me. I felt its push when I came here, but it's exponentially more powerful from the other direction."

"The barrier," says Izzy.

"It crosses into more dimensions that the primary ones of this world. We are dealing with much greater forces than I originally anticipated. The demons who orchestrated this have tapped into old powers."

They continue on their way. Ayame starts off on some tangent and the others stop listening to him.

Izzy looks at the sky, even though it's all the same, unbroken grey. "If this was the end," – she kicks a rock and it echoes down the empty street as it jumps and rolls along the sidewalk – "what would that make us? Like, are we saved? Doomed? Just us, out of everyone in Coalbird?"

Kyo shrugs. "I don't believe in that stuff."

"I don't either. But theoretically."

"There is no theoretically, 'cause it would never happen. Everyone's exactly the same in this place. It would be all of us or none of us. We're no different," says Kyo. Says the Japanese part-demon guy to the pink-haired demon hunter and the loud man with silver hair almost down to his purple-silk-robe-covered knees.

"We're the only people in town that aren't comatose. There has to be something that set us apart."

They stop in at Coalbird's excuse of a mall, which is really hardly more than a dozen shops stuck together with a hallway.

Kyo says, "We already know it doesn't affect demons. No clue why you're still walking around, but get it out of your head that it's got anything to do with you being any better or worse than the rest of us – them."

"That was never _in _my head. You're the one who brought up the topic. I just wanted something to talk about."

"Look, I'm sorry. But I'm not the kind of guy who likes those kinds of discussions. Go ask Yuki, if you want to get into theology and stuff." Not that Yuki's ever mentioned the subject. He just seems like he'd know about it.

Kyo is actually grateful for the scaly pair of olurki demons scrambling around in his peripheral vision. He faces them, and the child-sized lizard-people look up at him, freezing, silent. Then they burst into giggles and run, their arms full of bright clothing. He chases after them, but once they're out of the store, the automatic doors swishing as they close, he stops. Olurki aren't dangerous to people. He's not even particularly bothered by their looting.

Izzy says, "It doesn't affect animals either."

"Huh?"

"The unconsciousness. It only affects humans. I... I think that mean's Ayame's wrong."

"He said a lot of things. Which one are you saying he's wrong about?"

"This being caused by demons. If anyone has a reason to do this to humans, it's other humans."

"Speaking of Ayame, where the hell is he?"

Looking behind, he's nowhere to be seen. The two of them start walking back the way they came from. Familiar shop displays are made strange by locks and grates.

Sounds. A voice, and not Ayame's. The voice is male, jumping between octaves, sometimes going completely silent. Like the person it belongs to is crying, or about to cry. There's something secondhand about it – a recording, although Kyo doesn't know how he can tell this.

They find Ayame standing in front of the electronic store, the blue and grey lights of the display screens moving across his face, dashing across his hair and clothes, flashing in his eyes. This is where the noise is coming from. There's a man on the screen, something familiar about him that makes Kyo uncomfortable,

Behind him, the soft, plain colours of the local newsroom.

"...All the exits are blocked. I just want to find my son and escape. I'm so afraid of dying here." The screen fizzles, then starts playing the same scene over again, from what Kyo assumes to be the beginning. "Help me. If anyone is out there, please, just _help me._ My name is Michael Scribner and I am an innocent man. The... _monster _that killed my wife is the same thing that is doing this. All the exits are blocked. I just want to find..." As it goes on, Scribner pushes his fingers back through his hair, causing it to stand on end. By the time the scene is over, it looks like he's been hit by an electric shock.

They watch it through another two and a half times, then resume walking.

Kyo is the first to speak. "We should go to the television station. He'll still be there, or close to it. It's at the other end of town."

Ayame says, "I shall phone Mine and my brother and tell them to go there."

"Mine and Yuki-"

"Yes. Don't worry, they can handle themselves." Ayame's voice is soft. "Besides, there's somewhere I'd like to go first."

**9**

"Hello? Oh, hi boss! Oh?" Mine's expression hardens as she holds her small, pink cell phone to her ear. "Uh huh." She nods to no one. "We'll get right on it. Okay. Bye. Take care of yourself." Click. Turning to Yuki, "That was your brother. He wants us to check out the local television station. Apparently there's someone awake there." She stands up.

Yuki says, "What about them?" He points to the group of people in the corner. Since Kyo, Izzy and Ayame have left, Yuki and Mine have found a heavy-coated homeless man on a bench and a sticklike mid-teens girl in a black dress and high shoes, the heel snapped off one, in an alley. The two now rest side-by-side on the floor of the coffee shop, near the pile of canned and bagged food Yuki and Mine salvaged from the nearby grocery store, before spearbird and uweici demons, as well as several horses, goats, and even chickens that had mysteriously found there way into the aisles, could devour it. The baby from the car is being held up by a transparent enchantment taking the shape of a small chair, rocking him as he sleeps.

"I cast some protection spells over the shop, and some safety spells on everyone here, too. They'll be fine."

"I didn't know you were a wizard." There's a lot he didn't know about her, and still doesn't. The time they've spent together has been friendly, but by no means loquacious. She asks him questions and he answers politely, she nods or smiles or uh-huhs, and they're quiet for another half hour.

She laughs. The sound is one part awkward and two parts melodic, and he doesn't know which component it is that surprises him. "Oh no, I could never be a wizard. I just know some spells. It's like... like, how I can hold my own in a fight, but I'm by no means a martial artists." Another laugh, this one like it's been planned out.

"What do you consider yourself to be, then?"

She gives this brief thought. "I'm an assistant."

As they walk to the station, these are some more things Mine says to Yuki:

"Blue is your colour."

"I call him boss because it sounds right, you know?"

"Your brother really cares about you."

"I went to school there, too!"

"Do the Hannon family still live around here? Do you know if Mia ever married?" (Yuki answers yes and no, respectively.)

"You're interesting. You should use that. If you talk about these things you think about more, it will draw love interests to you." (He finds it interesting she doesn't use the word 'girls.')

The station looms in view, square and muddy-bricked, draped in cloudy midday shadows. Searching for a comfortable topic, he says, "Did Ayame mention a name for whoever we're looking for?" He assumes it's not someone important – well-known – or else it would have already been said. But he knows almost everyone, at least someone with the same last name as them, in town.

Concentration traces across Mine's face. "It was Michael something. I think it started with an S."

Yuki's blood cools. "It couldn't have been Scribner, could it?" No, of course it couldn't have –

"Yes! That was it. Yuki? What's wrong?"

"Michael Scribner is – he's a murderer. We shouldn't be here."

"Come to think of it, Boss might have mentioned something of the sort. We'll just have to be careful, the-"

Something moves in the corner of Yuki's vision and he instinctively ducks behind a garbage can, grabbing Mine's hand and pulling her down with him beside the discolored tin and the dust-coloured wall of the building. She doesn't resist, and the two of them crouch near the ground, breathing slowed and heart rates quickened as they watch the man crossing the street, moving towards the station.

He's clearly not Scribner. He's much too young, with long black hair and expensive, new-looking oversized clothing. The jeans are too long on him, the ends freshly frayed where they drag behind old black boots, the rubber on the bottom flapping with the soft scrape of each step. He has an expression on his face like there's something foul-tasting in his mouth.

He drops out of view, but the sigh of a door makes it apparent he's entered the building.

The shouts last impossibly long, horrible and suffocating. The one voice, comparatively high-pitched but definitely male, is a deluge of hopeless I'll-do-anythings, the other a deep holler, commanding, demanding. Yuki is sure the deep voice belongs to the boy.

Glass shatters and rains down all around them. A person hurtles through the window above and plummets into the pavement. The figure releases a series of painful noises, then pushes himself up with bloodied hands, turning to look right at them with a face obscured by gravel, dirt and blood.

This is Michael Scribner.

"Can you stand?" Yuki hears himself say.

"I'm not sure," says Michael.

He looks up, and Yuki's head turns. The expensive boy has his upper body out the window. He steps onto the ledge, then jumps down, landing like he's practiced this.

The dark metal of a gun is in his hand. The black pupil of the barrel stares at Yuki. Yuki stands and Mine does the same. Scribner clutches his knees and sways.

"Who and what are you?" growls the boy.

"Yuki," says Yuki. "Demon. You?"

"Demon master," says the boy. He jabs the gun in Scribner's direction. "You know who that guy is?"

"I believe his name is Michael Scribner."

"It is. That fucker killed my aunt, and now I'm going to shoot him. Don't you dare get in my way, or I'll kill you too. I've done this before."

Yuki knows his life is supposed to flash before him in moments like this, but he always has to be different, doesn't he? That's not what he's seeing at all, no memories, no regrets or realizations from his past. He's seeing now, and he's seeing himself as the boy across from him.

He sees through dark brown eyes, vision obscured by wild hair clumped together by sweat and the dust of destruction, feeling the folds of fabric around his body that haven't been his long enough to have the casual, natural sense of his _own_ clothes to them, more like he's in a store changing room trying them on, trying out a new life, a new persona, and his fingers around cold metal, trying not to show how much he's shaking despite feeling it all through him, the wracking shivers, twisting his insides into unnatural shapes, it's all he can feel, like it will rip him into a million pieces, small as nothing, despite the power in his right hand right now, as he sees the gray-haired boy who looks so calm and is too quiet like he isn't really here, or he doesn't have to be, like he could start floating away in the air, and the scared, pretty young woman with dirt staining the hem of her dress from where it brushed the ground when she hid from him, people who just happened to be here, now, and now might never leave, and the bleeding man on the ground, pathetic, much too insubstantial to be considered an enemy, for his death, like this, to be a victory –

His index finger closes around the trigger.

The shot is heard all over town, by every wakeful being, and even entering some dream worlds, embedding itself in their elaborate, nonsensical fabric.


	16. 14: In Bloom

Evil Town

Chapter 14

In Bloom

Chapter title is a Nirvana song (probably the most mainsteam track I've used so far). Next chapter should wrap up this story arc, so if you're missing Rin and Tohru then fear not, I have plans for them. I know I'm being inconsistent and using both the metric and imperial measurement system, but in this area of Canada where the story takes place, that's what we do.

And I know you said no need to thank you, but Vikertee, you are a freaking awesome reviewer. Just saying.

**1**

He pretends he's invisible.

He knows he's not, but it makes things easier to think like he is. Hiding is one of those things, like the powers or like math, that he can't do if he thinks too hard about it.

Through the browning leaves of bushes, he watches the long-haired man move his hand on the crosses, and he watches the boy and girl watch the man. The three say things at each other.

They are the only people he has seen all day. He knows his father is out there, and Brian, he's felt the signs of where they've been, rem(a)inders in the air and through the ground, like how damaged plants remember frost.

This morning, the man and woman who had been made to take care of him, with their crisscrossed faces that had started to slip down, skin stretched by years on a spinning world, didn't wake up. He wondered if they were dead, but their chests moved up and down, so he went into their living room and turned on their tv. None of the local channels worked. The far ones that they weren't supposed to get still played messy, buzzing shapes and colours. He held his finger to the volume button, trying to pick out words, searching for harmonies in the edged waves, but it only got more chaotic, ants swarming white sand over pictures, filling his head through his ears, black spots on his brain.

He went outside. The parade of everyday life had faded into last night and never reemerged. The wind walked plastic bags and napkins and tinfoil wrappers through streets full of no one except Brian's monsters.

He has to be careful to avoid Brian's monsters. Mostly his smallness helps him be unnoticed, but this morning he was chased by bird-monsters and what looked like a basketball covered in a hundred spidery legs. Still, it's better out here than staying inside. It's more interesting. And it's safer than being somewhere where Brian or his father might find him.

A shadow falls on him. "What is your name?" The voice has softness in it. He looks up. The man with moon-coloured hair is kneeling beside him.

He says, "Case."

**2**

In the moment the bullet rips through Scribner's arm, Mine kicks the gun out of the boy's hand and the firearm goes flying. All falls silent after the heavy clang of the weapon landing on a rooftop, somewhere out of view.

Then the world explodes.

Scribner's howl is wordless. Brian draws his fist back, turns to Mine with a face pulled into frightening shapes by rage. "You bitch!" Yuki instinctively steps forward, though it's obvious she has no use for his protection. Her hands are raised in flat rays, her body a taut, electrified wire.

Scribner's scream ends and he looks up at them, his blood spattered on the ground and the wall behind them, his hand clamped around the injury, liquid the colour of overripe cherries slipping through bone-white fingers and spreading through his shirt like a dark flower blossoming.

"Get up," says Yuki. Michael nods, winces but obeys, leans against the wall. "Hold out your arm." The murderer limply obliges. "Flex your hand." With each pump, the flow surges. Upon examining the injury, it's apparent to Yuki that the bullet only grazed him, hit an area with a lot of blood but no bone or important muscle, will leave a scar but otherwise no damage as long as it's tied off and covered from infections. The self-proclaimed demon master has terrible aim. He probably hasn't ever fired a gun before. Scribner offers no resistance or assistance as Yuki rips a thick band of fabric from the bottom of the man's shirt and wraps it around the wound. "You'll be fine."

Yuki looks back to Mine and sees she's forced the assailant's hands behind his back. Rings of blue glow encircle his wrists and solidify into fine chains. "Skywire," she says, the links jangling as she taps them with her fingernail. "It ranks up there with diamonds in terms of hardness."

"We should get back to the shop and regroup," says Yuki. He feels like he's on a chemical high that won't let him relax. And for some reason, he really wants Kyo around, like somehow that will change everything.

"...!" The handcuffed boy's muttering, too quiet to be noticed until now, concludes both loudly and indistinctly.

"What did you just do?" demands Yuki.

Brian shrugs and smirks. "Nothing."

Behind him, just for a second, the sky seems to get brighter, but it's over so quickly Yuki can't be sure what he saw.

**3**

The moment they arrived at the site where the body was found and the ghost appeared, Ayame changed. His mouth closed and his smile flattened, his eyes greyed and he stood completely still. "Something happened here," he said, surveying the plants and mud and red-string crosses.

"This is where they found the body," said Kyo. "She didn't actually die here."

Ayame shook his head. "An act like that, the ending of a life before its time, leaves a long... I don't think there's a human word for it. Think of it as a rip, or a shadow. But it's uneven, and it's makes other rules of the world work... unevenly."

"But lives end all the time," said Izzy. "I've killed demons before – I mean" – she glances at Kyo – "bad demons. When I had to. No offense."

"None taken until you said that," said Kyo.

"Lives are ending literally all the time. With violence, and diseases, and accidents, and what about the deaths of animals and insects and stuff? I've learned from Tracking not to be completely human-centric."

Ayame said, "It's complicated. There is a difference between a natural and an unnatural death, and an honourable and dishonourable fight. Killing for food, or self-defense, doesn't leave the stains of murder." He pauses. "This is one of the worst I've encountered. Whatever happened to her was enough to cause a fracture of her soul."

"But what's that _mean?_" said Kyo.

"Something highly unnatural, sudden, and violent has a profound affect on not only her body, but her entire being. She's confused. She may have taken on more than one form, simultaneously."

_Yuki's ghost... and Ian's ghost._

"It's highly important that we locate her."

"And then what?" said Kyo.

Ayame looked at his hands. "I don't know."

"So she made this happen?" said Izzy.

"Again, I can't say. But it seems likely. Sleep is the element of ghosts."

"Why?"

"They exist in the realm between the physical waking world and the complexities of-"

"No, I mean, why would she do it?"

"Because she wanted to contact someone in their sleep. Or because it's all she can do. Or it was an accident on her part. The list is nearly endless."

The implied "we may never know" is a stinging blister in Kyo's mind. He needs things to happen for a reason.

And then Ayame found the kid. "Case", wide-eyed, short-blond-haired, dirty-but-new-looking-clothed, the last of a summer tan fading away. A young teen or preteen. There's something weird about him, besides his being here awake, talking to them.

"Why are you here?" Ayame says.

Case turns his head far to one side, then the other, stares at all three of them for a long time. Kyo has assumed he doesn't understand or refuses to answer the question when Case finally says, "Looking."

"What are you looking for?" Ayame speaks gently. This confuses Kyo far more than the man's stories ever could.

"My mom."

"Can you tell me her name?"

"She's Angela. She was found here. She's dead." Case's voice remains even through every word. Kyo looks to see what Izzy's reaction is. The way her face is around her eyes makes her look like she's on the verge of tears.

Kyo will be sad later, when he can process past the logical, which is telling him he _should _be sad but not making him actually feel anything, aside from cold.

Ayame frowns, but otherwise shows no reaction. "I'm sorry for your loss. Have you seen her since she died?"

"No. I only felt her being around."

"How did she feel?"

"Sad."

"Do you know where she is now?"

"Around. A lot of places, probably."

A baritone _crack!_ splits the air, and all four look up.

"What was that?" says Izzy. No one bothers to put their not-knowing into words.

Then: the sound of fast, young breathing. Case is running into the thicket, his arms flapping like he's forgotten they're attached to him, his strides uneven but fast.

Kyo chases, knowing the others are right behind him. The brambles grab his skin and clothes, and once he's out of those (the brambles, that is, not clothes) it becomes apparent that the hundreds of years and tens of dollars the town devoted to preserving this area of natural beauty has all been part of an elaborate conspiracy to get branches at the exact height to smack him in the face should he ever decide to run through the place.

And why does that kid have to move so damn fast?

It's hard to tell with all the stuff in the way, but Kyo is fairly sure he's catching up. He glimpses flashes of blond a few feet ahead of him.

His foot tangles around a root, but he stumbles back to balance. He curses himself and the local flora. He's lost sight of Case.

He's stopped running, because any distance in the wrong direction will only take him farther away from who he's pursuing. He pushes foliage out of his line of vision, but it doesn't help. _Where the hell could he _go?

A few meters away, something small thumps onto the leaves that carpet the ground like decaying camouflage. He approaches it slowly, trying to walk noiselessly. With demons, small doesn't equate to safe.

It's no demon. Lying on the pile of compost like something expensive on a pillow, is a child-sized shoe, the back dented from being put on wrong, foot jammed in with laces still done up, hundreds of times. Kyo looks up, and of course, Case is right there, perched near the very top of a spindly tree like an awkward, flightless bird unsure of how exactly it got there.

"Come down from there!" yells Kyo.

Case shakes his head.

"We're here to help you!"

"How?" Somehow, even with a monotone, Case sounds genuinely interested.

Kyo is stumped. "We'll... keep the... _things _away from you. Take you to where other people are."

"No thanks."

"Why?"

"I'm hiding."

"If you stay out here, you're going to die!" After he's spoken, Kyo remembers the age of who he's addressing. Or at least, he remembers which age Case isn't. He looks older than he acts, but if years are the distance between Kyo and Case, the difference between them, Case must be much younger. Kyo can't remember ever having been that young. So he adds, "But if you come with us, you'll be safe."

"I'll find a way out. I'm okay. Maybe one of the monsters will help me. There are nice ones, too, you know."

By now Izzy has caught up, and Ayame can be heard walking through the poser of a forest, narrating his perilous task of keeping thistles and burrs from tearing his clothes.

"What's happening?" says Izzy.

"Absolutely nothing," says Kyo.

"What?"

"He doesn't want to come with us."

Izzy calls into the tree, "If you come with us, we can get you food and water."

"I'm okay," says Case, voice muffled through leafy branches.

"We'll get you some Crazy Bones and a Juicy Juice," she offers sweetly.

"We'll what?" says Kyo.

"You know," she whispers, "the little plastic guys, and that fruit drink. Kids love them. I remember from the advertisements during the Pokemon commercials."

"That was ten years ago. I'm pretty sure that juice isn't available anywhere it the province anymore, if it ever was. And were those bone things ever popular?"

Izzy rolls her eyes. "Like you're so connected with the youth."

"I have found him!" echoes Ayame's booming voice, his finger a triumphant signal towards the tree.

"Congratulations, Aya," says Izzy tiredly.

"I am honoured to be of service," the man replies with a sweeping bow. In Case's direction: "We only wish to help you. Why did you run?"

"I don't trust you."

"Fair enough. And what can we do to gain your trust?"

The boy takes a long time to answer. "Something amazing."

There is an instant change in Kyo's mind, a distinct feeling that something in his head has changed shape, and suddenly he knows. "Duck!" But they don't react fast _enough, _he stretches out his arms and leaps, tackles Ayame and Izzy to the ground as the flames engulf the air, burning the fine hairs off the back of his neck as, on the ground, he covers his head with his arms.

Then: temperature drop. Falling, sinking, descending, from one extreme to the next. The cold also seems to burn. Freezer:burn. He begins to know that this is coming from outside his skin, not the faded blaze memorialized inside, playing tricks on his body.

_Then this has to be..._

He opens his eyes, risks rising to a kneel. Crystalline frost ornaments skeletal ash. Black and white, sharp and delicate. Powder.

The t'spinia demon whirls through the air with no apparent support, mechanical arms spinning, its mysterious body concealed by the long, ragged white sheets its kind use for protection against radiation from this world's sun. With its light- and chemical-sensor each a small black spot, it looks exactly like the dot-eyed, flowing white ghosts of cliché, save for the pair of chrome robotic limbs, long and thin, concluding in brutal claws, betraying its technologically advanced origin.

Ayame and Izzy are already standing, so Kyo stands too. The t'spinia demon is too high to affect them from here, aside from the piles of snow that rapidly accumulate on their heads whenever it flies overtop. Izzy's fists are clenched, and she looks like she could charge into battle at any moment. Ayame places a hand on her shoulder. "We're not strong enough at this time to risk fighting it." Her hands drop.

A spray of flame manifests in front of the demon, consuming a nearby tree far too close to the one Case is in.

Izzy stares at the fake ghost. "Is that-?"

Kyo says, "T'spinia."

"T'shit."

To say that t'spinia demons are immensely powerful is like saying Ayame is kinda quirky. As well as being able to create and manipulate whirlwinds of fire and ice, they are some of the most difficult varieties for humans, or even other demons, to understand and anticipate.

"New plan," says Kyo.

"Was there an old one?"

"We get him down from there, whether he comes willingly or not. Then we run."

The most important part of the plan goes unsaid. _If something happens, you know what to do._ As if saying it will make it an even more obvious lie. But Izzy gives a sharp nod, and Kyo starts climbing.

Ashy bark crumbles blackly under his hands, but the smooth, striated centers of branches hold true. As he gets higher, the scorching lessens and branches thin. Everything he can hold onto bends.

Case's shoeless foot dangles in front of him.

Now what?

"C'mon," says Kyo.

Branches rustle and the whole tree sways with what Kyo can't see but knows to be the motion of Case shaking his head.

"What are you waiting for?" Kyo is shouting. The t'spinia demon is coming close again. Small fires smell like rot and pine and barbecue. Their brightness is dulled by smoke, like a picture becoming smeared as the artist's hand rubs against what's already been drawn.

Case says. "Something's happening."

Something big and bright swoops up, all a plummet of colour, it's got claws, forces air around as it passes. The tree bends severely, and one of the branches Kyo's holding looses shape as he shifts his weight to avoid falling, and it tears down to a useless, thready dangling thing. He wraps his arms around the trunk, checks his footholds are secure.

The t'spinia demon chases the colour, sparkling daggers of ice flying at the... whatever. The whatever ducks and swerves through the sky and treetops, giant wings arching and flattening. The t'spinia demon comes up from below, out of the scorched landscape, bolt from the black, hits the whatever with a burst of white.

The colour falls beneath the canopy.

The t'spinia demon follows out of sight.

Kyo breathes but the air doesn't seem to fill him.

"Okay," he says to Case. "Let's go."

Seconds pass like a river of bricks.

Light crashes up on them, snapping the tree, grabbing Case in bright claws. There is no time. Choice doesn't enter into it. Kyo jams his foot on the splintered end of the plant before he and it both tumble into woodland wreckage, stretches out his arms and jumps. Air pulls at him, uncatching. He makes it! He tangles his fingers in feathers. The whatever lets out a squawk, high-pitched and strikingly inelegant. It does it again, those crazy flight patterns, a rubber ball glancing off the sparse rays of sun piercing the sky.

He holds on, through the ups and downs that slam against his joints, feeling like a stone skipped over water. Not meant to fly.

But the fact that he's doing it, even if not by any ability of his own, all circumstances aside, is somehow still fucking awesome.

He thinks he's getting to the point where he will be able to predict how the gravity will throw his weight. In a dive down, for a fraction of a second he lets go, falls forwards head over feet, onto the rainbow bird's back.

The creature pulls out of the dive, the shift in gravity shoving downy feathers up Kyo's nose. They smell like dirt. The bird continues to fly evenly.

_It thinks it's lost me. _

Not hard to see why. Kyo's arms don't even halfway encircle the giant's neck.

The bird's feathers are shiny white, reflecting different colours with each change in angle. Except on its back, between its wings, where there are some black ones that seem to suck in the light around them and emit none of it back. Kyo is lying on most of the black, but it looks to form some kind of design.

He pulls himself forward, careful not to yank any feathers. Leaning his head over past a wing, he sees Case.

The claws hold him sideways and facing downward, one under the arms and the other around his legs. His hair flutters around him, bright and light and everywhere, like dandelion seeds. Kyo can't see his face.

Below, beige fields skim by, dotted by hay bales. They're not as high as it feels. He could survive a drop from here, though he'd probably break something, and it definitely wouldn't do the kid any good.

A woman appears in front of him. "Wha-" he starts, and she smiles, her eyes looking into his. He draws back as she flies at him, eyelids crashing shut in anticipation of the impact.

Which doesn't come. When his eyes unlock, she's gone.

Something on the ground explodes into orange and they rocket upwards with force that would have knocked him off had he still been looking over. The bird's prickly cry fills the sky with echoes.

The drop out of the airstream is just as sudden. The atmosphere is feverish. Without having to look, he knows the t'spinia demon is back. Kyo holds on for his life as the bird weaves through hotCOLDhot. He is in a snowglobe, frost biting his fingers, then a sun-coloured fever dream. He doesn't know if he's upside-down or rightside-up, and he can't even think about what such terms mean.

The t'spinia passes directly over/underhead and he can't help it, he yells as fire rains down on his arm, and the bird yells and tries to shake him off and he stands and steps running into the grey.

Everything changes.

The shape of his eyes and the way they tint the world, his bones stretch, muscles harden, thoughts get louder.

The t'spinia wobbles in its hovering wingless flight as his four powerful, tough-skinned limbs wrap around it. Endorphins pour in as he bites down, the sheet ripping on the sharp points of his teeth, letting light in, and the demon, the other demon, beeps singly and unspecially and the sheet collapses inward as smoke and mechanical pieces burst out of it.

As he falls, surrounded by fragments of machinery, past the bird, he slashes with his weapon/arm, extended claws slicing into that beautiful wing.

He hits ground hard, on all fours. It doesn't hurt, but as he tries to breath himself back in, gradually regaining human form, he collapses onto his chest and stomach. He feels unbelievably small. Ahead of him, tan leaves of grass swaying in his vision, he sees Ayame and Izzy running around beneath a clearly-injured bird, it's wings pumping unevenly, one shredded at the end and losing feathers that disintegrate before they hit the ground, Case still in its talons.

Ayame raises a hand, palm upward, and a stream of pale purple light blasts out and slams into the bird's chest. The talons snap open and Ayame casts another spell, this one invisible but its effects obvious, slowing Case's descent as he drops into Izzy's arms. The bird freezes in the air, then falls apart into dark dust.

Izzy sets Case down and he stands, at first wobbling, turns three-hundred and sixty degrees very slowly. Izzy holds out her hand and he takes it and runs with her towards Kyo.

"You okay?" she asks, kneeling down beside him.

"Yeah," says Kyo, making himself stand. The ground pulses under his feet. His burnt arm is reddened and has raised spots on it. "Pretty much."

"So that was your demon form?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

"No." He brushes ash and plant bits off his hulk-style-shredded clothes. "But sometimes it's useful."

Ayame has something in his hand when he comes over. He lets it fall between his fingers. "Do you know what this means?" he says.

"That you like carrying dirt around?" says Kyo.

"This is what the demon was made of – or rather, what means that creature was not a demon at all. The exact earth as is found around here. That being was simply inanimate matter held together by a spell, a form of magic so unstable that such pseudo-demons can barely last an hour, and cannot be activated from long distances."

"There was some kind of symbol on its back," remembers Kyo.

"Did it look like this?" Ayame traces his index finger through the air and draws a wavering character the same shade as the attack he'd unleashed on the bird.

"I don't know. I didn't get a good look."

"Was it closer to one of these?" Swishes of Ayame's hand create half-a-dozen more letters.

"No. If it was any of those, it was the first one."

"A retrieval spell, then. Apparently, Case is a wanted man."

"But who wants him?" says Kyo. "No offense, Case. But why would someone be after you?"

Case shrugs. "Things happen to me." Suddenly in his face, Kyo sees a superimposed image of the flying woman's, smooth in its similarities. He decides he won't mention this or her. What would he say? He might have imagined her – he can't recall any specific features.

Only that brain-breakingly sad smile.

**4**

When Izzy opens the door to the coffee shop, several things happen loudly and simultaneously.

Michael Scribner breaks from his trance-like state of considering the strange, underwater burn of his arm in its sticky wrapping and of the faint pink stain beginning to show through them, upon seeing Case and yelps, "Cassidy!" Forgetting he is skywired to a chair, he attempts to stand, and as a result falls forward. As Yuki and Mine return him to his original position, despite a bleeding nose his face is an image of unstoppable happiness.

Izzy looks at the dark-haired boy chained to a chair beside Scribner and her mouth drops open, takes several seconds to remember how to work, and when it does her brain hasn't fully rebooted, and she shouts, "You're you!" and then, trying to explain, "Sharlasaidyouwereprobablydead."

Brian Freewell looks at the small boy standing in the doorway, exclaims, "Yeah!" When he hears Izzy's words, his lips, vivid red from being unconsciously but violently gnawed on, twist into a grin.

Ayame runs up to Brian and says, "Why, how astonishing! We meet again, and this time, it would seem, in the throes of enmity rather than the thorns of anonymity, which previously, case in point, appeared so preconceived to be construed as unremarkable as to impress forlornly a dichotomy of projection nearly botryoidally contradictory in nature. How rude, I have not yet properly introduced myself, my name is Ayame Aizawa, and you are?" This takes him exactly five-point-seven seconds to say (as opposed to the nearly twenty it takes for Brian to even begin to enunciate, "Um... I'm Brian.").

Outside the center of the chaos, Yuki, Mine and Kyo alternate possible combinations of looking and avoiding looking at each other.

Case takes one step through the door, hesitates, then walks over to a table in the corner, pulls out a chair, sits down and stares at the people sleeping on the floor. The homeless man, underweight girl, and infant appear to be the safest people in the vicinity.

**5**

"So," says Izzy, once things have quieted down, looking from Brian to Ayame, "you two know each other?"

Brian grunts and looks away.

Ayame stirs his cup of milk-saturated coffee. "Brian was a customer at one of my previous employments, and though he did not give me his name at the time, I distinctly remember reading his fortune." He pauses. "What did it say, again?"

Brian says, "You told me to follow my impulses."

"Ah, right! And what did you do with that advice?"

"Burned a house down."

"Oh... I see."

"It was my grandmother's house. I hate her."

"Why would you-"

"I just said, I hate her!"

"Was anyone... hurt?"

Brian's face clouds. "No."

"I'm glad to hear that." Ayame takes a long drink from his coffee. "And Miss Izzy, how do you know Brian?"

"My friend showed me his picture on the internet. He's on the missing persons list. And he's Michael Scribner's nephew."

Brian says, "Don't fucking talk about us like that. He's not family anymore. I renounce him."

"Why did you decide to do that?" says Ayame.

"He killed. My fucking! AUNT!"

"So you're not close."

As Brian launches into a lengthy, detailed, and surprisingly creative list of anatomically improbably feats for Ayame to go and do, meanwhile, Kyo and Yuki are standing around Michael.

"So, you're Cassidy's father?" says Yuki.

Scribner nods, causing the string coming out of his nose to swing back and forth. His fall had resulted in a nosebleed, and since no one could find any tissues or napkins, he'd had to suffice with a tampon from Izzy's pocket ("That was their original purpose anyway. Nosebleeds," said Izzy. "Really?" said Yuki. She'd laughed at him. "Pfft, I don't know!" He didn't quite get the joke, if there was one). This only secures Michael's place in Yuki's mind as the least-threatening person he's ever met.

"Why weren't you with him?"

"I would have been – if I had any idea where he was, I would have gone right out and found him the moment I could. But Cassidy went into foster care, who with was kept secret from me, after the... you know."

"No," says Kyo, "we don't."

"You all think I killed her. Maybe it's easiest for all of us if you think that."

"Well, is it true or not?" The volume of Kyo's voice surprises all of them.

"It's... no, I don't think so." He stares at his knees like he's seeing them for the first time. "I mean, I couldn't have. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I had."

"Were you there when it happened to her?"

"Yes. But what I saw didn't make sense."

"Try us," says Yuki.

"There were... claws. They were invisible, but I knew that's what they were. And the... invisible things, that did this, they were big. It must have been loud, but I stopped hearing. It was so _vivid _it blocked out all my other senses. Then it ended, just overflowing emptiness and _so much blood._" His head droops forward. Tears drip onto his shirt. "I don't know. Maybe I did do it. I loved her. If I hurt her, I wouldn't be me anymore. So maybe my mind just erased what I did, so I can keep being." He gives a lone, sobbing laugh. "Maybe I'm crazy."

Outside, Yuki sighs as he leans back against the wall of the building. Now in private with Kyo, he says, "I don't think he did it. I don't think he could."

"It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?"

"But he really sounds like he loved her."

"Crime of passion."

"What would his motive be?"

"Who knows with old people? "

"He's only about thirty," says Yuki.

"And we're sixteen, talking in words we learned from CSI. We weren't there, man, and time travel's illegal – how are we supposed to know what happened?"

Yuki doesn't reply.

Kyo says, "Maybe he really is just crazy. Not so much in a psychopath way as the 'my-teacup-is-the-messiah' type."

Slowly, Yuki says, "What if someone else was there when it happened?"

"Witnesses." The word hangs in the air. "Case?"

"And possibly Freewell. He seems the most upset of all of them."

"People grieve differently."

"That's insightful of you."

"Forget I said it."

"I don't know how to tell you this." Yuki really doesn't. When he does, the words are so imperfect that they play through his mind weeks afterwards. "But thanks. For being here. If I have to be alone in this town with someone, I'm glad it's you."

Kyo takes a half-step backwards, looks off into a corner, and says, "Yeah... uh... thanks. Yeah."

"I mean," Yuki babbles, "I imagine you'll be more of a help than many of the people who live here."

"No, really – thanks. Hearing that is... nice." Kyo combs his orange fringe through his fingers. "There are bigger jerks in this place than you, too."

"I'm flattered." He makes sure his tone is properly ironic, but to a part of him, the words are overpoweringly true.

After too many languid minutes of uncomfortable silence broken up by not-witty-enough remarks, Kyo suggests they finish talking to Scribner and they both briskly stride towards the door. Once there, they nearly get stuck in the frame as they choose the same moment to try and go through.

Kyo says to Scribner as he looks up at them from his chair, "Was anyone else there, besides you and Angela?"

Quietly, eyes cast downward, Scribner says, "Cassidy."

"Brian wasn't anywhere close?" says Yuki.

Scribner's face blanks, then lines with confusion. "No, why? I haven't seen Brian for years up until today."

"You live in the same two-hundred person town," says Kyo.

Scribner winces. "Okay, that came out wrong. I've seen him, but we didn't really talk – maybe a 'hello' sometimes."

"But he was close to your wife," says Yuki.

"He'd met her once or twice, a while back."

Kyo says, "But he seems-"

"Please - don't be too harsh on him. This happening to anyone he knew, at all, has got to be hard on him. He needs help."

"About what?"

"He's been through a lot."

"Like?"

"He lives with my sister. She's got alcohol issues. Damn, why am I telling you this? You're a couple of teenage boys."

"It might be helpful to know," says Yuki.

"Yeah. Guess you're the only chance I've got, huh?"

Something growls outside, followed by wet blue chunks of another something splattering the window. There are three or so seconds of silence inside, then the din of chatter, nonsense, protests, and reassurances resumes.

Right. Chances. Those aren't looking so good.

**6**

As the two of them prepare a meal out of artistically-arranged canned food, Izzy says to Ayame, "Thanks for being so helpful with Case. Who knows where we'd be without your kid-understanding skills?"

The can opener makes small metallic sounds as Ayame twists it. "I've enough experience to come up with some basic guidelines. I simply strive for the exact opposite of how I behaved towards my brother in the past."

**7**

Once he's finally allowed a moment of relative solitude with Cassidy, everyone else busy eating and discussing their various theories, Michael says, "I missed you."

Cassidy removes a potato chip from the bag in his hands, looks at it with intense concentration before he decides it's acceptable to put in his mouth and begins to chew it just as attentively.

An itching hatred for the chains around his wrists that prevent him from gathering his son up in a hug floods into Michael. Not that Cassidy has ever liked hugs. This is a selfish wish, Michael knows, but it would make _him _feel better, to have his son in his arms, close. Even just a high-five, the brief contact with it's sharply, softly echoing aftershock, would be heaven.

Cassidy says, "What was jail like?"

"Lonely."

"Do you know what's happening now?"

"No."

"I don't either."

Michael wants to go home, but home isn't a place anymore. It's a time. It's gone.

"You have a string in your nose," says Cassidy.

"I know." At least he knows _something._

**8**

Kyo sees her face in his dream that night.


	17. 15: Common Reaction

Chapter 15

Common Reaction

A/N: Thank you, dishrag-chan and Vikertee. This segment of the story was supposed to end in this chapter, but it looks like it will be one more. Regardless, I'm so happy to have this plot arc so close to finished – and about the next storyline, I have a question. Would anyone be bothered if I wrote a few chapters in first-person (still present tense), mostly or entirely from Rin's point of view? I think it would help to show her character more clearly in the upcoming storyline, and once that section is done I'll return to third-person. If anyone reading this is strongly bothered by first person, I can rewrite what I've got so far in third person without too much difficulty, but I need to know before I write any more. Chapter title is an Uh Huh Her song.

Also I changed my penname.

**-1**

Just before he fell into sleep, dreams covering him like waves, Yuki heard Michael Scribner say into the night, "I know you'll never believe me. But I didn't kill her. She was always the strong one. I don't know how I'll be able to live without her. When I thought about my future she was always there, right beside me. Now it's all a blank. I just had to say that."

Yuki wasn't sure whether the man was talking to him, someone else, or no one at all, but he said, "Thank you." It was a response that even at that hour, Yuki himself didn't understand.

Michael made an odd sound, a kind of sigh-grunt, an 'mm' noise like he was drinking too quickly and it was painful to swallow.

**0**

Her hair looks like it should be red. Everything about her is waving, wavering whitesilvergrey. But the way her hair curls, and refracts the lifeless light, there is something red about it.

There is a hole in her chest, like the remnants of a fire, and the rivulets leaking from the embers are also red, but they show up dark as lead. Like she is only weightless because numbers can't come close to containing the heaviness of what happened to her.

She's not who he thought she was. No, she _is_. She's more _her _than he could/can comprehend. This is her, the eye-burning, heartbreakingly concentrated essence of everything she was and could have been. Should have been.

One person, one human being who doesn't live here anymore, who will never feel the ground, right here, under her feet ever again.

And soon she'll be even more gone from here, into some far older, untouchable place without all these walls.

But she looks right at him, and he realizes, he is realized, he is real, she is here, she is realization, she is his dream and she is a feeling. His thoughts burst like drops of food colouring striking water and he knows.

**1**

There is something cool moving against his face. When Kyo opens his eyes, he sees Mine kneeling beside him, pressing a damp towel to his forehead. She's got an expression like she's looking at an injured animal. She smiles at him, and it's not as painful a smile as Angela had worn, or the identical one Case had, which wasn't even a smile at all but mostly a look in his eyes and a confused twist to his mouth that Kyo had so _stupidly _mistaken for a neutral expression – but it's close.

Angela. Case. Action, reaction. Angela Scribner. Cassidy Scribner. What they were and weren't to each other.

"Where's Freewell?" he tries to say, but it comes out a dry croak.

Mine says, "You were knocked unconscious while it was your turn to stand guard. Do you remember that?"

Kyo shakes his head. The movement feels like he is slamming his bruised brain against the walls of his skull. Above him colours are moving, and it takes him a moment to realize that it's people pacing, not just his eyes spinning in the strange morning light.

Something comes back to him, but it's dark and vague enough to be a dream. Standing by the door, looking at the black sheets of night the windows had become, something flickering behind him and coming down before he could turn, the floor rushing up to meet him.

Nausea rises in him at the recollection of the crushing disorientation. He swallows. His mouth tastes like blood and badness.

"Brian escaped," says Mine.

"H-how?" manages Kyo.

The assistant shakes her head. "He broke the legs off the chair – by kicking them, it looks like, over and over. And then he must have attacked you."

"S-s-skyyyy-"

Mine holds up a piece of glittering blue chain. Kyo reaches out to touch it, and she lets him take it. He lifts it above him, his hands at opposite ends. It's a long, unbroken loop.

In his anger, he forgets his pain and sits up. For a second the world goes black and white, but he blinks rapidly and everything returns to normal.

At least, as normal as things ever are around here.

Ayame is saying, "I'm afraid I'm to blame – I should have known something was wrong when we couldn't find any napkins."

"What the hell do napkins have anything to do with this?" says Kyo.

Even Ayame doesn't seem like himself. There are subtle tangles in his hair, and his robe is covered in decidedly unfashionable creases. He must have slept in it. Dark semi-circles hang beneath his eyes, like blue-purple half-moons.

Somehow, this increases Kyo's irritation. He wants Ayame to be immaculate, irrational, free from such physical, obvious human weaknesses.

"He hid these from us." Ayame picks up several sheets of paper off the table and drops them beside Kyo. They fall like leaves. There is red writing on them, the edges of some of the thick lines beginning to turn brown.

"It's a fusion spell," Ayame is saying. "If the boy is still alive, I will be surprised."

The writing, blurry on the fibrous paper, is in blood. No one has to tell Kyo this. "Just a second," says Kyo, and he walks to the bathroom, shuts the door behind him, and vomits stomach acid into the toilet.

When he comes back, Yuki asks him if he's okay. Kyo says it doesn't matter.

Izzy and Yuki are discussing what happens next. "Everyone's still asleep," says Izzy, "so Angela still wants something."

"What if she isn't controlling this?" says Yuki.

Ayame interrupts, "Even if she isn't consciously sustaining the spell, it originated from her desires. Once what she wants or wanted is fulfilled, it should subside."

"I thought you said there's no way to know why she did it," says Kyo.

"Not knowing what it is does not mean we can't put a stop to it," says Ayame.

Yuki says, "So... you're saying we have to run around completely directionless and hope it works?"

"Well, I'd advise going in Brian Freewell's direction, but essentially... yes."

Kyo says, "He did it."

Heads swivel to face him.

He says, "Brian killed Angela."

"How do you know?" says Yuki.

Kyo glances towards Case and Michael. They're both still asleep, miraculously considering the chaos surrounding them. In the center of the room, people and furniture strategically positioned around them, they're the eye of the storm.

He says, "She – Angela – wasn't Case's mom. Not... biologically."

"Did you get a warrant for that DNA test?" says Yuki.

Kyo glares at him. "No, it's just... they don't _look _alike."

Yuki appears to be on the verge of slamming his head down on the table he's sitting at, but Izzy says, "Like how?"

All at once, Kyo realizes how flimsy it all sounds. But if they could see what he saw... he remembers, and he knows with absolute certainty. "She had red hair – he's blond. And Michael's got brown hair."

"Hair colour can change," says Yuki.

"Their faces-"

"He's male. She's – she was – female. Of course they'd look different."

"Ask Michael!" Kyo explodes. "Fucking _ask _him! If you're so confident in yourself, then why are you afraid of proof?" He lunges forward but Ayame grabs his shoulders. He's surprisingly strong, and shows no sign of straining as he holds the orange-haired boy back.

Mine takes Yuki's hand, though Yuki gives no indication of being ready to do anything with it. She says, "It's barely six in the morning. We didn't get enough sleep, we're all afraid, and we're all exhausted. This isn't the time to let our emotions take us over."

Ayame doesn't relax his grip. "Yes, calm down, Kyon."

"Don't call me that! What the hell does it mean, anyway?"

"Lucky," says Ayame.

Yuki takes a deep breath and says, "Fine. We'll wake Scribner up and ask him. That should settle this, and if what Kyo says is true, we might be able to build on that for some sort of... plan thing."

"Direction," says Izzy.

Mine looks down at her hand and as though noticing for the first time that she's holding on to Yuki, she lets go.

Kyo drops the fists he hadn't realized he was making. "Okay," he says. He inhales. He exhales. Martial arts breathing rhythms Shishou taught him so many years ago. He looks at the sleeping parent and child, and something turns in his chest like a small machine. Case's face is buried in the warmth of his father's arm, a single woven rug shared between the two of them as a blanket. Biology aside, they have something between them that Kyo can't explain. Like abstract art, so different from his reality, nothing shaped like anything logical and familiar, but there's something about it, a kind of obscenely obvious, oblivious hope, that comes through. Risky and exposed and untouchable as a bare wire. He says, "But let's not wake them up yet."

He doesn't understand why the others listen to his request.

**2**

Fusion spells applied to living beings are forbidden under the destructive magic act, a system of inflexible laws the violation of which is punishable by the strictest measures. Such measures are never spelled out, but there are whispered horror stories in the magic community.

Usually, though, when people are found to have used these spells, there is not much left of them to penalize.

Fusion spells, even on inorganic matter, are a risk. Two things forced together, unnaturally, into one. Molecules bonded, often in ways molecules are not meant to bond, with unpredictable consequences. On living beings, the risk increases exponentially. Not only do the bonds have to hold, the new organism must be incredibly lucky to have a body able to fulfill all the requirements to sustain life. For blood to stay moving along the right pathways, for internal organs to continue properly functioning, for bones and joints and muscles to stay connected, for shape to allow proper movement, for two minds and two brains to work together.

Two becoming one. Or some agonizing fraction of subsistence. Or nothing.

Life becoming death.

Even if someone were to survive the ordeal and successfully unbind from the other organism, they would never be the same.

**3**

They follow bizarre, bloody footprints with too many toes, and what look like very long claws. Then the blood fades and they're left scouting out nicks in the ground that _might _be claw-marks. Disproportionate claws aside, the footprints are small, which explains how Brian managed to escape the skywire. The fusion with some unfortunate, diminutive demon who happened to be nearby, letting his wrists and hands shrink to fit through their holds.

Outside, the evidence of demons is undeniable. Glistening chords of supersized spiderwebs are strung up between evergreens and suburban houses. Cocoons, piles of dirt, dams, the stacked picked-clean bones of demons lower on the food chain line the streets - as well as less comprehensible destruction and creation: coloured towers of twisted metal, stalagmites, shed skin or sleeping snake-creatures that stand on their tails (no one dares get close enough to see if those flaky, scaly eyelids will open). Runes and crude statues made from branches, complicated designs slashed into poorly-paved roads. Crop circles and small citadels. Messages and towers of Babel.

Yuki and Izzy walk the wasteland, feeling like wraiths so near their own homes. Less than two days for this to become a ghost town. Yuki feels like the specter of an extinct animal. A pterodactyl, a passenger pigeon, an insect with a long Latin name no one will ever again bother learning.

They are looking for Brian, whatever he is now. They are not hopeful. Back at the shop, Kyo is watching over Case and Michael while Mine finds more food, insisting they need fresh fruit and vegetables to supplement the canned goods. Ayame is working at deconstructing the spell, trying to find a distinct tag to it that will allow him to locate Brian. When Yuki left, his brother had been staring at the bloody writing with enough concentration Yuki half-expected the pile of napkins to burst into flame.

Stepping around an ominous puddle of panchromatic goo, he says, "So Kyo said you found some kind of spellstone."

"Are you actually interested in it, or do you just want to socialize?"

"It's better than the quiet."

"There's all kind of sounds."

"Yes, I suppose. Sharpening of weapons, clacking of pincers, stuff eating other stuff. If listening to that kind of thing is what you're into."

"Wow. I never realized."

"What?"

"You have a sense of humor."

"Are you... making fun of me?"

"No, it's just... a surprise. You always seem so serious. But it's cool – learning that about you."

"Oh," he says, not knowing what else to reply. "About the stone?"

She says, "The kinkjelly opa."

"Kinjali opal?" he says, eyes widening.

"You've heard of it?"

"Of course. It's demon magic, a special type of spellstone - an amplifier, it's called, but the name isn't really accurate. It doesn't amplify magical energy, but it allows it to be accessed from storage areas that don't usually get used, and it gives it a, a tint – like, if it's an ice opal, magic will be augmented by ice effects, and... and I'm talking too much and you're not understanding any of it, right?"

"No," says Izzy, "I understand. Some of it, at least. So I feed power into the rock, and it comes out with ice-flavoured power? Like Crystal Lite for magic?"

"Well, if it's an ice-type amplifier, then yes, but it might not be. And if you weren't... you. Amplifiers are designed specifically for demon magic, and for specific types of demons. It would have to be used by a demon in a similar class as the kinjali, which rules me out, too."

Izzy nods, then says, "You're like your brother, you know."

For a moment, Yuki forgets the right series of impulses to continue moving forward, and he freezes.

Izzy says, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, but... _how?_"

"I didn't mean anything bad by it. Just that you're both passionate about the things you really care about."

"Oh. Thank you, then."

"It's cool," she says. "I wish I was like that." She reaches into her pocket. "Anyway, here's the opal."

She sets the stone down in his waiting palm. It's cold and glassy in his hands. "It's a plant-type amplifier," he says.

"Oh. Cool."

He hands it back to her.

**4**

In the town center, where paved areas outnumber unpaved, it becomes impossible to keep track of the clawmarks and Izzy and Yuki turn back. As they're walking, Izzy says, "So, do you know why Kyo was so convinced Angela not being Case's mom made Brian guilty?"

Yuki says, "I'm not sure. I'm not sure if _he's _sure. But right now, Brian isn't making himself look innocent."

At the coffee shop, Case and Michael are sitting up. They've both been untied, Yuki notices, and since skywire can only be removed by the person who applied it, he knows Mine must also be back. Kyo is drinking more of that vile black liquid, a paper plate with broccoli and corn-on-the-cob in front of him. He and Case and Michael are all sitting around the table, each with a plate of food. Yuki realizes how hungry he himself is, and behind the counter, obscured by stacks of cans and food and cooking equipment, is Mine.

She waves at him. A pot of water hovers in front of her, filling the air with food smells, the sound of bubbles bursting against the metallic container. "Help yourself," she says. "You must be hungry."

"Yes," says Yuki, "thank you. Where's my brother?"

"On the roof. He says high places help him think better."

"I'll be right back," says Yuki.

"Want to talk to him first, huh?"

"Yes."

" I'm sure he'll be happy to see you."

A ladder of purple light hangs against the edge of the building outside around the back, and despite looking completely insubstantial, when Yuki grabs onto the material, or whatever it's called, it doesn't even bend. He climbs up to see Ayame, sitting cross-legged, hunched over the pile of napkins, surrounding by a cylinder of intricate glowing characters hanging in the air. He scribbles with an invisible pen, adding more letters, the pillar spinning and growing higher and higher, sometimes moving so fast the letters look to be solid bars of purple metal.

Not sure if he should interrupt, Yuki stands directly in front of the man. Ayame doesn't even look up. Yuki says, "Hi?"

Ayame stops. "Oh, hello, Yuki."

"You... want me to bring you anything? Mine made lunch."

"Maybe later. Thank you for offering." He resumes writing, though at a reduced pace.

"How is it progressing?"

"Slowly, but I think I _might _be on to something."

"What is it?"

"The spell was very hastily cast – unfortunately, that does not bode well for Brian, although it will make him easier to find. There are signature marks all over it, myriad unprofessional traces that make the spellcaster easier to locate – like if an essay occasionally dissolved into the author's diary entries. There's definitely enough here to fashion a locator spell."

"That's great. I won't distract you anymore."

"It wasn't a bad sort of distraction, but you're right, now is probably not optimal interaction time for either of us. But thank you. We'll talk later?"

The way he says it like a question surprises Yuki. "Let's do that."

When Yuki's down the ladder, he sees Kyo standing at the bottom, arms crossed. "What's going on?" says Yuki.

"Not much." Kyo shrugs. "Been waiting for you."

"Why?"

"I didn't want to be alone when I asked Scribner."

"You haven't already?"

"Obviously. If I had you'd already know about it."

"Oh. Right. Why were you waiting for me specifically?"

"'Cause everyone else is obnoxious."

"What about Izzy? Or Mine?"

"They're alright... but... okay, fine, screw it, I have no idea why. Maybe I just wanted to see the look on your face when you got proven wrong."

Yuki says, "Okay. Let's get Michael."

**5**

At first, Michael Scribner denies everything. "Why would you ask that? Of course he's my son. Look at us."

Kyo can't argue there isn't a resemblance, and Yuki is surprised to see he doesn't attempt to. Instead, he says, "I didn't ask if he was your son. I asked if he was adopted."

"What made you think that?" He doesn't come off as indignant so much as confused. Despite the length of time he spent sleeping, Michael looks like he could pass out at any moment.

Kyo says, "I had a dream. I... I think Ange... I think your wife was trying to tell me something."

Michael looks like he's been slapped across the face. "Okay," he says, voice barely a whisper. "If I tell you this, will it help make everything... over?"

"Yes," says Yuki, when Kyo hesitates.

"Okay." A very long, deep breath. Michael's chest visibly rises and falls. His words come out in a rush. "Angela couldn't have children, but we both agreed we wanted a family. Shortly after we got married, my sister had her second child. She hadn't been trying to get pregnant, she hadn't wanted any more kids, but it... happened. The baby, the little boy, wasn't healthy. She wouldn't be able to take care of him. So Angela and I took him in.

"And as I'm sure you figured out, that boy was Cassidy."

There's a long silence. Finally, Yuki says, "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I try not to think about it. Cassidy doesn't know."

"Brian is his brother?" says Kyo.

"Technically. They had next to no contact before this whole ordeal."

"Are you sure?" says Kyo.

"Why would they-"

"Did you ask him? Because I know if I found out I had a brother, I'd do something about it."

"Fine. I'll ask him. Cassidy!" Michael hollers into the shop. Case rises and joins them, still eating an ear of corn. "Did you see Brian before... before this?"

"Yes," says Case, "Last time I saw him was yesterday." There's no sarcasm, only directness.

"I mean... did you see him before the - the thing that happened to mom... did you see him before that happened?"

"I saw him at school sometimes. At recess, by the fence. We talked."

"Y-you did? About what?"

"Our lifes. He acted different than he is now. He was always nice to me."

"That's... good."

"He showed me the monsters."

Michael's mouth drops open and his eyes become pale blue disks.

"I saw them before, sometimes, but he taught me about them. And he could make them appear. They listened to him, mostly."

"I swear," says Michael, "I didn't know-"

"I know," says Yuki. "Let him continue."

Kyo says, "Was Brian at your house when Angela was killed?"

"He was hiding behind the couch. He wanted to show me his monsters, but it went wrong. I... he made me hide with him. When it was over, I kicked him in the face, and I yelled at him. I yelled at everything."

Michael collapses to the ground in a sobbing heap. Minutes pass. "Why- w-why didn't you s-say something?"

Case says, "You never asked."

**6**

Little happens the next few hours. They wait, and they eat, and they cry, and they talk, but mostly they wait. Finally Ayame's voice pierces the dusk air. "It's finished!"

All of them, the last people left awake, ascend the purple ladder. Ayame's letters spin furiously, a typhoon of intricate curves and lines and edges, stretching so far it never seems to end.

Ayame looks to Izzy. "This spell requires a source of energy, and unfortunately I am, erm, rather limited in such areas..."

"Go ahead," says Izzy. "Take all the power from me you need."

"Are you positive?"

"It's fine. Glad I could be useful for something." She smiles.

Ayame paces around her twice, waving his hands and leaving a cloud of letters in his wake. Once he's done, the letters close in on her, then disappear in a burst of lilac light. She gasps, then looks around her, shakes her head quickly and says, "That was so weird."

The sky is still that aching grey. The spaces between the clouds look like the lightened cracks in plastic. Out in the distance, a dark shape moves. Yuki recognizes it as the tree demon from his yard. Nearby, a patch of scarred land where the train crashed – the fire's gone out, thankfully. On the other side of his field of vision, a large column of black smoke pours into the air. It almost looks like it bends, where it hits the sky, like the sky cups it and doesn't let it go any higher than a certain point. It's an odd view, the same way as a tree floating in water is, with branches at angles that seem impossible but what exactly is off is can't be specified, until the person looking at it realizes it's half-reflection.

Ayame says, "On we go." He claps his hands together and abruptly his purple creation surges upwards, tilts and bends above them, forming a bent, narrow shape, like a curly bracket turned on its side, or a simplistic drawing of a bird. Two wings. But really, it's not simplistic at all – the letters are still there, weaving through each other, connected, like the thread in a seemingly solid material.

Yuki can't help but feel a sense of awe at what his brother has done. "Hold on to it," says Ayame, and the shape settles in front of them, hovering a few centimeters above the roof. He climbs onto the left wing and lies down flat on his stomach, hands gripping the edge in front of him. Yuki copies him on the opposite side, and Kyo also gets on. Izzy and Mine stay behind with Case and Michael inside the building.

Shortly after Michael broke down, Case had gone back inside, sat down, and refused to move or talk to anyone. Tears streamed down his face, but he was silent.

The shape lifts off the ground, carries them forward. The feeling of flying is so pure Yuki wants to shout, not in anger, not even in joy exactly, but at the realization of his existence.

Kyo actually does shout out, a long "Whoo!" Yuki wants to tell Kyo that what he's done is amazing, that it makes Yuki unbelievably jealous and... something else he can't put a name to. But he also wants to not say anything and simply listen to the sky passing his ears. He settles for the latter, then feels embarrassingly knowable.

As the wings carry them, not even needing to flap, the pillar of smoke comes closer and closer.

They are in a sea of lung-staining black-grey when they begin their descent. The wings shrink, and after settling lightly on the ground, disappear entirely. The source of the smoke stands before them.

It's Brian. Or, it was. Yuki has to look for a long time to process what he's seeing.

Brian is waist-height, his body mostly reptilian but upright, with randomly interspersed patches of human skin. A human shoulder connected to a lizard arm. Extra human fingers on lizard limbs. He has too many mismatched, misplaced teeth, and one of his eyes has two pupils, one a circle, the other a slit, with a smeared, discoloured iris. The other eye is entirely, evenly yellow.

Scales and skin mash together uncomfortably. It hurts to look at him, like staring too long at an optical illusion. Like Yuki can look away and it will all be over. Like if only he shuts his eyes...

But no.

Kyo says, "What do we do? Do we fight him?"

"He's half olurki," says Yuki. "They're harmless."

"_He _isn't," says Kyo. "And what's up with the smoke?"

The blackness rises from the ridges on his back.

"Get back," says Ayame. Yuki and Kyo listen, and from behind a building, they watch.

Ayame slowly approaches the confusing being, holding out his hands as though he's ready to draw them back at any moment, in case Brian bites. The demon – the boy – Brian – angles his head to face Ayame. The functioning eye spins shakily, double-pupils roughly turned in his direction.

Brian opens his mouth and flames erupt.

They are green, searing tendrils, and even from behind the building their heat is felt. Yuki's heart stops as he watches them cover his brother, completely, like a tidal wave coming down.

When they stop, Yuki is sure he's died, he himself. If something happens to Ayame, Yuki will die too. It's not medical or logical, but somehow it's the way the world works.

But as the smoke clears, Ayame stands unharmed, a glowing purple bubble shielding him. And Yuki is alive again.

The smoke gets darker and darker, and at first Yuki thinks the heat-warped air is distorting Brian. But this is real. Brian is again changing shape, one convoluted tragedy to another.

Ayame turns his back on Brian and retreats, eyes to the ground, pace unhurried. He says, "It's worse than I thought. He's accessed the unforgivable powers."

From the direction of the creature that was once Brian Freewell comes a gargling roar. Ayame says something and the wing reforms in front of them, and they grab on and retreat.

**7**

They don't go back to the shop. The wing comes to a stop on the roof of an old house, the dirt-covered, chipped shingles crunching under their feet. Yuki remembers how Ayame likes high places. Ayame takes out his cell phone and calls Mine.

Kyo is too angry to talk and Yuki doesn't know what to say, so the two of them dangle their legs off the side of the building and watch the town become more and more smoky. Automated streetlights begin to click on and Yuki can't decide whether they make him feel more or less lonely.

**8**

"He's into the unforgivable powers," said Mine, turning to Izzy as she hit the end call button. Then she stood up, turned on her heel and left the shop, the door closing with a soft, final click behind her, and climbed up the ladder to the roof. Izzy followed and found the older woman staring over the town, brow furrowed.

Mine used to live in Coalbird too. But now, even the way she stands, it's different than the people around here. It's like at any moment, something bigger could discover her and remove her from the trials of small town life and put her up on a screen, make her a star. And its like if this thing doesn't happen, she'll collapse in on herself like the city hospital Izzy saw on tv years ago, unseen explosions inside breaking everything down to chalky dust. There was no sound in the broadcast until several seconds after the detonation, when a blurry, detached crash swamped the living room.

And the worst of it is, she's not even trying to look like that. There's nothing practiced about it. It's the way giving into the town's official sin and 'seeing the world', like Coalbird is not a part of that world but rather something else entirely, makes some people. The kind of people who never come back.

Mine says, "There's something we haven't tried."

Izzy walks up beside her. "What?"

"Boss said he analyzed that boy's magical signature. We can use that, if we have to."

"I'm listening."

Mine hesitates, her eyes darting to and then away from Izzy. "We could find his... _frequency. _The plane he's drawing his power from, and we could block it out."

"I'm sensing a 'but'."

"I don't know how we'd do it."

"Oh."

"No, I mean, I know Boss could do it, but it requires a lot of energy for a very small area, and Brian could probably figure out that to get past it all he'd have to do is stand somewhere else."

A traffic light burns out. "Well, it's better than anything else we've got."

**9**

They return to the coffee house for dinner, though no one has much appetite. "It went badly, I suppose?" says Michael. He hasn't moved from his spot in the corner. With the clothes and blankets strewn over him, he looks like a cloth doll.

"How did you guess?" says Yuki.

"We're still here."

"Yeah," says Kyo. "It went badly. It didn't really go at all, actually."

"So then, what?" says Michael. "We stay here and wait for them to kill us?"

"Unless you know how to break the spell or get out of here, then yes," snaps Kyo.

Izzy stands up and starts walking around the room, weaving around people and furniture. "Well, what do we know about it so far?" she says. "It takes less force to come in through the barrier than to go out through it – hey, that explains why the train was able to get into the town but not out!"

"And coming into the barrier doesn't damage it," says Yuki.

"It doesn't distinguish between organic and inorganic matter," says Ayame, "nor between humans and demons."

"It's invisible," says Michael.

Izzy says, "Oh! Mine, tell them about the – the blocking signal!"

As everyone turns to face Mine, she looks down at her knees. "I doubt it's important... but okay. Why not? Since the unforgivable powers are drawn from other planes, then if we could find the channel Brian is draining them through, and block it up, he'll only have his internal powers to draw on, which should be depleted or even overdrawn by now."

"So it's like the radio?" says Kyo.

The silence that follows is broken by Yuki's "huh?

"It's like a jamming signal," says Kyo. "Like the one that's stopping the radio and TV stations around here from working.

Ayame stands up and claps his hands together once. "Why has no one mentioned this until now?"

"It's important?" says Kyo.

"Extremely. If this signal comes from the same source as the barrier and the unconsciousness, then finding its origin could allow us to neutralize this spell!"

"Wait," says Izzy. "Michael broadcasted his message with no problem."

Ayame looks at the man. "So he did."

Michael says, "So we're back to square one?"

"Not at all," says Ayame. "In fact..." He walks over to Scribner. "How could I have missed it? There's an aura about you – about Cassidy and Brian, as well – of... calm."

"If this is calm I'd hate to see how I'd handle being upset," says Michael.

"No, I'm not being clear. It's a type of... negative magic. It neutralizes whatever this spell is causing. Everyone who was there at the time of the attack seems to have it. Your wife used the last of her life energy to protect you."

Michael holds his hands in front of him and stares at them for a long time.

Izzy says, "So why wasn't I affected?"

"I can't say," says Ayame. His eyes stray towards the door. "We should get to the broadcasting station."


	18. 16: All Neon

- thank you, dishrag-chan.  
today the title is a phrase from Plans, a Bloc Party song.  
if scenes have the same number, they are happening simultaneously. -

Chapter 16

All Neon

**1**

When people speak of black magic, they are usually referring to the unforgivable powers. The overwhelming majority of magic users, even in life or death situations, avoids these energies. The consequences of transgressing into such territories extend beyond matters of life and death. Afterlife, undeath, every one of the uncountable variables that define the self. Irreparable damage.

The existence of the unforgivable powers prompted the formation of the original authorities and laws regarding magic usage. Despite these measures, the powers require hardly any effort to access. Only a cost.

By giving oneself over to the otherdimensional beings known as the unforgivable powers, they allow a magic user access to an allotment of their energies. In exchange, the user becomes the property of the powers, to be used as they please, called upon at any time. It could mean immediate death, or some task to be accomplished years or even lifetimes later, in some unrecognizable form.

But often, the sheer stress of containing such high-level forces, even for a short time, of being so close to such pure chaos, doing the things the absolutely powered can and will do, knowing the day will come when payment is demanded, drives the user to mental and physical ruin. The loss of reason and control and self, conditions that to this day are still sometimes referred to as demonic possession.

**2**

"So, you know how we're going to do this, right?" Izzy reaches hand-over-hand, ascending the ladder of light Ayame's put up alongside the radio station.

"Of course." Ayame continues climbing above her. "I once ran the fashion segment for a right-wing religious radio show. The host liked what I'd done with her hair when I'd been a stylist, and she invited me on."

"So how did that work out?"

"I was on the air for three-minutes and fifty-four seconds before the studio was stormed by a multitude wielding torches and pitchforks. Which was substantially longer than I'd anticipated."

The door to the radio tower is locked. All the windows are several meters above ground. The solution is a long climb. Yuki and Kyo keep watch below, while Mine watches over Case back at the coffee shop. Michael Scribner is a few steps behind Izzy.

When Ayame reaches the window, he removes his magic jewel and it glows and grows back into a sword. "Watch out," he says. Izzy and Michael look down as he brings the blade down on the glass, which shatters and rains down all around them like sand. Izzy feels it against her skin, watches the particles litter the ground below. She shakes them out of her hair and clothes and continues to the top, climbing through the broken window after Ayame.

The silver-haired man is glancing at the equipment, frowning. The entire room is crowded with dials and knobs and levers and microphones and wires and cords and plugs and measuring devices. It is a spaceship of black and silver, specked with ominous red buttons.

"You did say you know how to use this, right?" says Izzy.

"Yes, yes, they simply made some... _upgrades _since I was last here." He adds brightly, "Why, it might even make our task easier, having access to more advanced equip... oh." His smile vanishes as quickly as it appeared as he examines one of the screens.

"What is it?"

"Safety precautions. They've engineered this specifically against what we're attempting."

"Demonic-power blocking?"

"Hacking to broadcast obstruction frequencies."

"Would it help if Michael was here?"

"No, his aura allows him to neutralize the original signal, but that doesn't assist us in bypassing a firewall. Although now that you mention it, where has he gotten to?"

They approach the broken window. Izzy's mouth opens but no words come out. Ayame speaks, in a language that sounds like wind through leaves.

**3**

"_Kaivamonious," _says Ayame as he watches the man struggle in the tree demon's grasp. _"I should have known to expect you."_

Kaivamonious leans in towards the tower, the shift in his weight causing the sidewalk to creak. _"Could it be? Ayame Aizawa?" _

"_Would you expect any other?"_

"_No." _Kaivamonious slowly swings his limbs from side to side, massively denting a garage roof and causing Michael to scream. _"I would not. I will acknowledge you have a distinctive presence."_

"_As do you. Tell me, what have you been up to since our last encounter at the thirty-five thousand fifty-sixth annual interdimensional fashion pageant?"_

"_Oh,, nursing my righteous anger towards the judges. Honestly, Sykdjehonenbop, of all beings? Clearly she only won because... well, you know what they say about trapezoidal fungoids."_

"_Why Kai, that sounds almost speciesist."_

"_Me? Never."_

"_We must admit, she did pull off the bouffant quite admirably."_

"_Yes, I will concede that. But those pleats..."_

"_Ah, that does raise questions. If she had gone with the infrared scarf ensemble, however..."_

"_Oh yes, that would have brought out her angles – "_

"_In all the right places – "_

"_And with some shoulder pads –"_

"I'm going to be eaten by a tree," says Michael.

"_What _is _it with humans?" _bemoans Kaivamonious. _"Oh, the prejudices vegetarians such as myself face! The assumptions! Although, I _would _make a highly effective carnivore. Drawing them in with my beauty and charm –"_

"_That you would, Kai. Speaking of which, would you mind freeing him?"_

"_But Aya! I've spent the last two days looking for a human to add to my wardrobe! They're this fall's latest accessory. You expect me to remain in the nude?"_

"_Would you consent to a negotiation?"_

"_I will hear you out."_

"_The mythril-coated rollerblades of Cymoda."_

"_You're bluffing."_

"_The newest model. Crafted from moonstone by the claws of a thousand lobster laborers."_

"_Oh my goodness."_

"_And wheels of the finest cubic zirconium – "_

"_Stop! I'll make the trade."_

"_I'm not so sure. These rollerblades__ are __rather precious. For one human? That doesn't sound entirely fair."_

"_Your list of demands?"_

"_After you set him down, we shall discuss."_

**4**

When Michael's feet touch the ground, his knees immediately buckle. He lies in the road like a deflated balloon animal. Above, Ayame and the tree continue their strange noises, until the tree, with earthshaking steps of its roots, departs.

Kyo and Yuki come running over, and Ayame and Izzy emerge from the tower to join them.

"Where were you?" says Michael.

Yuki says, "Kyo was inside that car," and gestures to a parked vehicle with the windshield smashed in. Kyo is covered in red cuts. "I can't believe you thought _kicking _the hundred-foot monster was a good idea." Scribner notices that Yuki's arms are also badly scraped. Yuki hastily puts the jacket tied around his shoulders back on, but Michael already knows he helped the other boy out of the car. For some reason, Michael smiles.

"So what ended up happening?" says Izzy to Ayame.

"Kaivamonious has joined our cause. When I alert him, he'll launch into combat against Mr. Freewell."

"How did you manage to convince him?" says Yuki.

"I promised him a very fashionable set of rollerblades."

"What would a tree want with rollerblades?"

"Yuki, Yuki. You miss the entire point of fashion."

"Clearly."

"So we just charge in?" says Izzy.

"If we can't find an appropriate broadcasting station, it will be our only option," says Ayame.

"Like what kind of station?" says Kyo.

"Something simple."

"Would a ham set-up in someone's basement work?"

"That would be outstanding."

"Let's go. This guy I know has one at his house."

**5**

"This is unbelievable." Yuki shakes his head as his brother shatters the window of the run-down house. They are in the kind of neighborhood Yuki is forbidden to visit.

_The demons are an equalizer, _he thinks. _Now this area looks the same as everywhere else. _

"What is?" says Kyo, hefting a rock through the adjacent pane.

"This entire situation. Ghosts, and spells, and being trapped here, and radios... I'm a _demon _and I don't understand it, and... wasn't that unnecessary?" Kyo kicks the edges of the glass in with the kind of concentration that seems dangerously compressed. "Kyo?"

"What?"

"We only need one window to get in."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess you're right." He steps back, clearly admiring his handiwork.

"Do you and this friend have some sort of unresolved issue?"

"He's not my friend. He's just... some guy I used to know. C'mon."

Yuki can't help noticing Kyo navigates his way through the house expertly, albeit without much respects for the contents. Not that whoever lives here has much respect for their possessions either, it appears.

The floor is littered with objects ranging from odd to unrecognizable. Cutlery, video game controllers, foul-smelling piles of clothes, food wrappers, sports magazines, pottery; stuff. Most of it half-broken. Yuki has never seen a place like this before. It feels like he could stay here for a hundred years and nothing would ever change.

Things crunch under his shoes as he follows Kyo. Glass and foil and plastic glitter on the ground like exoskeletons. Kyo flips a switch and light clicks into existence.

As his eyes adjust, Yuki notices one of the lumps on the floor is rhythmically rising and falling. He draws nearer, and sees a shock of long curly hair pouring out from under the blankets wrapped around the figure. Kyo's not-friend?

"Hey," Kyo's voice echoes. "Are you coming or not?"

"Yeah," says Yuki, reminding himself there's no reason to feel guilty. He follows Kyo down a flight of splintery stairs.

In contrast to the rest of the house, the tiny room in the basement, behind a closed door, is immaculate. Or maybe the word is just empty. A bare light bulb directly centered in the head-grazing ceiling blares shivering light. Silver wires and an old-looking dull-grey computer rest on a table in the corner. On the floor lies a microphone and a black box strewn with worn-edged dials. "Is this the kind of thing he was looking for?" says Kyo.

"It looks perfect," says Yuki. "I'll go find him."

Yuki leaves Kyo standing there, staring transfixed at the room. He finds Ayame wandering through what Yuki is fairly sure is either a kitchen or bedroom. "Kyo's waiting for you downstairs."

Ayame nods, sets the lump of blue he's been turning over in his hands down on the table and moves towards the stairs. Yuki examines the object. It's a faded plastic seahorse. He puts it back. It's no use trying to interpret his brother's interests.

As he debates whether to go back downstairs again, he finds himself gravitating towards a small item on the floor. Some kind of book – the only one he's seen so far in this entire ocean of belongings. Light splits into beams down its shining black cover.

He picks it up and lets it fall open in his hands. A photo album, plastic pages cool against his fingertips.

From behind the clear shroud, Kyo looks out at him. A younger Kyo, but unmistakable. Maybe thirteen or fourteen, a skinny boy with orange hair slightly longer than his current style stands on the rail of the balcony – _this _house's balcony -, the iconography of some metal band on his shirt, arms outstretched towards a soft sky, a wide grin.

Yuki turns the page. The same young Kyo climbing a tree, waving at the photographer. He looks so happy Yuki feels like he's intruding on something he has no right to be a part of. The next page shows Kyo and another boy on skateboards, in the process of springing off the pavement.

Yuki continues to flip through the skateboard photos, but the other boy is always blurred or turned away from the camera. He has brown curly hair.

Last page, and finally a clear photo. The two boys look directly at the camera, Kyo holding his skateboard by the piece of metal connecting the wheels, the other boy with his under his arm. They have their other arms around each other's shoulders. Kyo has a small scrape on his cheek and the other boy is bleeding from his knee. Their faces glow with happiness.

Yuki memorizes the brown-haired-boy's face, then closes the book. He walks over to the sleeping lump and gently disturbs the fabric – he knows he won't wake the person up, but knowing and believing are two different things – from the figure's face.

He's older. His hair is longer and he's got the beginnings of a beard, though it looks more like dirt smeared on his chin than legitimate facial hair. But it's definitely the same guy.

Yuki slides the book into his pocket and returns to the basement. Mine, Case, and Scribner are there as well.

They've all turned their attention to Ayame, and Yuki finds himself doing the same. But his brother's speechmaking – or maybe just talking – is directed only towards Izzy, and he appears to be oblivious to the crowd that's congregated around him. Once again, he's writing on the air as he speaks. "And you are certain about this."

In response to the half-question, Izzy flashes a thumbs-up and a forced smile.

Ayame's gaze shifts to Yuki. "Hello, dear brother."

"How is it coming along?"

"Fairly well, I would say. I am in the process of constructing a spell that shall enable us to block the unforgivable powers, and Izzy and Mine have volunteered to supply the power to put it into play. Kaivamonious should have no difficulty overpowering Brian within that time."

"And Kyo and I?"

"You've done more than enough already."

"We can patrol-"

"No. The other demons are already keeping a low profile – they sense the danger of the unforgivable powers. If you wish to do what's for the best for us all, you will rest. If anything should not go according to plan, your body and mind must be in proper condition to react."

"So do nothing?"

'Regain your energy. There's no use in wasting it. Are you feeling alright?"

"Not really."

"Sleep. Or at least lie down."

**6**

Kyo and Izzy rummage through the mess, sorting out the house's collection of video games.

They keep the sound low, so as not to wake Yuki, who has collapsed on the couch and is gently snoring. The lights from the screen shines on his pallid face as spaceships race across the television, blurting panchromatic laser beams through star-specked blackness. But little more than an hour later, Yuki wakes up. Before he opens his eyes, he gives a strangled cough, like he's forgotten whether he was midway through inhaling or exhaling.

When he does open his eyes, he starts at seeing Case looking directly at him, sitting beside the sofa. Yuki says hi. Case doesn't say anything, but when Yuki sits up he takes a seat beside him.

Yuki asks if he can join and Kyo tells him to grab a controller – he can be player three, which isn't as good as player one or two, if he's okay with that. Yuki says that will be fine. He offers the remaining controller to Case, but the boy shakes his head.

Another half hour or so, Mine emerges, explaining that Ayame does not need her assistance at the moment (even though no one asks). She sits on the couch and watches their characters run and jump around inside the tv.

It's getting dark by the time Ayame's voice splits the quiet. "It's finished!" Yuki can't help that his first association is Frankenstein's monster.

**7**

What Ayame's made is too big to fit inside the small room, overflowing into the entire basement. Chain upon chain of letters, interlocking, turning like cogs, slowly, almost heavily, although they hang unsupported in the air. Turning against gravity. Kyo pokes one. His hand passes right through it, to a sense of vague warmth, like breath.

"So," says Izzy, "I..."

"Whenever you're ready," says Ayame.

"Okay. I am. Go." She's shaking.

"I shall summon Kaivamonious." He closes his eyes and tilts his head downward. His mouth moves, but the sound that comes out is as quiet as distant waves. A moment later, Ayame looks up. "He's ready. Kyo, Yuki, I have a task for you."

"What is it?" says Kyo.

"Locate Brian and Kai. Stay safely back, but inform me if anything of interest occurs. I bestow this upon you, my brother." With a single, soft clap on his hands, the wing of light manifests between them, the size of a sparrow. "And this." He reaches into his pocket and produces a silver object. "I hope the colour is alright?"

Yuki turns the cell phone over in his palm. "It's perfect. Thank you." He smiles.

**8**

Brian is gigantic. The deformed demon-boy towers over most buildings as he stomps through the suburban streets. Kyo and Yuki follow him from overhead. Yuki's able to control the wing, though he isn't entirely sure what it is he's doing. It seems it responds to how he puts his weight on it, but it's more instinctual than anything else. Oh well, it's working disconcertingly well so far.

At the end of the street, Brian turns back the way he has come. "Is he pacing or something?" says Kyo. Suddenly, the lizard looks up, and even with the several stories of space between them, is obviously glaring. Brian opens his mouth and, before Yuki has a chance to react, fills the air with blackness, glistening like oil. Only the heat reveals it to be some sort of fire.

A split-second before they're barbecued by evil, Yuki swerves to the side and the black flames pass them by. "Go go go!" yells Kyo.

"I am!" They rise sharply, Brian falling away beneath them, shrinking.

Clunk. They bang right into something, and Yuki grits his teeth as he lowers them down, only sheer force of will preventing him from passing out from his new concussion.

Kyo moans. "What the _fuck?" _

Indeed. When Yuki looks up, there's only sky. Very slowly, he brings the wing back up, a hand stretched above him. Soon, he touches whatever it was they'd bumped into.

Only there's nothing there. He traces a finger along it. Glass? It's cold, smooth, slightly curved. The barrier.

He looks down. It doesn't look real. The houses could be models, the cars toys. Brian could be a real lizard. There's another shape beside him, something dark. Yuki cautiously descends.

Kaivamonious blocks Brian's way down the street. Brian roars, but Kaivomonious continues to move closer to him. Brian opens his mouth, and Yuki winces.

But nothing happens.

And the tree promptly socks Brian in the gut.

**8**

Ayame talks to his letters as though they are people. Mine beside him like an afterthought, Ayame addresses his creations in the untranslatable language. His voice is serious, but there is a sense of intimacy to it, as though he is confiding in an old friend.

The letters turn faster, faster, faster, forming more of a uniform ring around her than the jumble of gears that had existed before. Within the ring, thousands of strands interweave, traveling in different directions.

The ring constricts around her, forcing her breath out. The letters shine brighter. Her energy drains immediately and tangibly, like hours of sleep being pulled out of her.

Michael Scribner stands with his back against the wall, eyes painfully wide, purple light shooting through his irises. Ayame clicks something on the radio. "It's working."

The wall of letters grows around her. She loses all sense of time. Everything feels like forever.

Michael's pupils shrink to pinpricks amongst pale lilac. The light makes the whole room like another world, where things are brighter, harder, more painful.

And then the room is gone. There's only the white-purple flame around her, consuming her. This is her entire world, and she is its fuel.

**9**

"Yeah," Kyo wants to say. "Giant lizard terrorizing the Japanese. Like we haven't seen _that _before."

But he won't say it, and not just because of the lameness. Honestly, he never _has _seen anything like this before. Not just the scale of the thing, Brian and Kai stumbling over houses as they exchange blows, but also the closeness. He's watched movies with bigger monsters, but this is his neighborhood, he's lived here his entire life, and every time a house is almost destroyed Kyo's breath catches in his throat. These sleeping people, even if he doesn't like most of them, he _knows _them, he knows so much about them, he's seen them so many times. And the thought that with one misstep they could be just _gone_... his heart is moving so fast he thinks it will run out of beats and he'll collapse and fall from the sky. Or like it will spring from his throat, right out of his mouth. And the shaking through his whole body will stop, but he'll have to live with the silence inside him.

The cold at this altitude fills the holes in his clothes. He shivers.

Another thing that makes this different from any fight he has ever watched or been in: he can't do a single fucking thing. He can't adjust the volume, flick the off-button, throw a punch, make a sound. He can only hide up in the air, watch and hope things turn out for the best. But what is the best?

Kaivamonious is winning, it looks like (what is winning?). He's forcing Brian back, step by step through the empty streets, their roots and limbs and branches leaving deep gashes in the roofs and walls of houses, but to Kyo's relief none get stepped on, only grazed. It can't be by chance, they must be trying to do as little damage as possible, right? Or maybe they really don't care. Does it even matter? So much destruction just... happens.

**9**

Izzy's knees buckle and she hits the floor. Her bones feel like they will be crushed to dust any second. Everything hurts. Her throat burns, her skin stings, there is a tremendous pressure in her head. She squashes her eyes shut, but the wall of brightness penetrates her eyelids. .off.

But she can't.

Just a little while longer...

**10**

"Let's land," says Yuki. It's getting hard for him to concentrate on steering this thing, and Kyo doesn't look well. The orange-haired boy nods, and maneuvers them onto the top of the watertower. As it touches the surface, the wing shrinks to the size it had been when Ayame had given it to Yuki. Yuki puts it in the pocket of his jacket.

They're in the more urbanized area now, with fewer houses and more well-paved roads. Kai hits Brian in the chest with an uppercut, and the lizard-boy stumbles backwards, claws gouging the pavement with a terrible sound. But Brian steadies himself, and fixes Kaivamonious with a painfully concentrated glare.

So far, Brian is definitely coming out the worse, but Kai doesn't look well either. His branches are torn and splintered, twisted into wrecked angles, and several deep claw-marks run down his trunk. Brian is bruised and bloodied, and even his good eye is half-closed within the swelled, blue-black scaly skin around it. Several of his ribs must be broken, and his breathing is loud, raspy and too fast.

He coughs a puddle of dark blood onto the street.

Then, looking up, he rams straight into Kaivamonious. Clearly caught off-guard, the tree topples, and Brian stomps and punches him unrelentingly.

Several minutes pass, Brian remaining in this fervor, seemingly oblivious to all around him. Yuki doesn't know what to feel... no, he's scared. He'll admit it. He's never been this scared, not even when Westweaver took over him. Yuki's a different person now, he realizes. A person with so much more to lose.

The sound of snapping fills the air.

Brian steps back to admire what he's done. Kai lies on the ground, a pile of splintered twigs. Yuki doesn't want to see, but he can't stop staring. He's absolutely frozen.

The horrible screech of twisting metal and the surface beneath his feet tilts sharply. He reaches into his pocket and takes off running on the disappearing ground, grabbing Kyo's arm.

_It's impossible! How could he reach..._

The air fills with heat and smoke. The wing grows in Yuki's hands, until Yuki and Kyo are able to grab on and jump. Seconds later, the tower topples behind them with a tinny smash.

The spell is growing. Brian is using the power again, getting bigger still. They narrowly dodge another burst of black flame.

There's nothing to do but flee. Yuki wills the wing to move as fast as possible and holds on so hard his knuckles go white.

**10**

"Enough."

Filtering through varying levels of lucidity, Izzy can't be sure she's heard the word. Someone seems to be holding her. She feels arms, surrounding her like safety. She wants them to never let go. Distantly, she remembers it feels good to be like this. Her body can do other things than hurt.

The short stream of logical thought, the effort of getting all the words in her head into the right order, plunges her into another river of dizziness. The current pulls her underwater, underwords, underworld. Underwear, haha. There's something funny about that word, isn't there? And everything is getting dimmer, fading out like a dream, and it will be so nice when it all goes blank, and the colours in her head stop flickering and it all stops hurting.

"Release her. I'll take over."

And then, all at once the current stops. The whole river evaporates and she hits the hard pebbly bottom, but she hungrily gasps in the new air around her, feels it brush against her skin like a relief like wind like love like life like those hand that held her through it all, and she opens her eyes and dust-specked floor stretching to the wall is so fucking beautiful, and the rims of her glasses, and the smudges on the lenses lit up by rays of light striking the glass.

And the spinning letters, and everyone's legs, and the folds in the fabric of their clothes, and the glittering wires, and Mine standing so calmly over her, in the center of it all, hair and dress blowing in the energy of the magic all around her, arms clasped in from of her like she's praying.

She's smiling, just a little, with her eyes closed. She looks so natural, like she's spent years practicing to do this. She stands so still amidst the blazing light, and she looks like a statue or an angel.

**11**

They sit in the near-darkness, not talking. Kyo peers through the opening, (comparatively) bright specks of outside.

The ridged inside of the demon cocoon isn't exactly comfortable, being cold and rough, but it does feel safe. Yuki closed up the opening they came through as best he could, so from outside hardly anyone or anything would be able to tell they're not just another... whatever used to live in here.

A steady, high-pitched beep rings out. Kyo turns to see Yuki fumble for the answer button on his new phone. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" Izzy's voice is blurred over the speaker, but the words are clear in the quiet.

"Inside a... a cocoon thing."

"Can we meet somewhere?"

"What's going on?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"It's a long story."

"I don't care, go."

"Kaivamonious was defeated. I... he might be dead. Brian got his powers back, and we went into hiding."

"The spell wore off 'cause I ran out of power. Mine took over, so it should be working again."

_Shortest long story ever, _thinks Kyo.

"Are you okay?" says Yuki.

"I'm amazing. I'll meet you by the Sandwich Emperor."

"What time?" But she's already hung up.

Thankfully, the Sandwich Emperor fast food shop is only a few blocks away – then again, _everything _is only a few blocks away in Coalbird. Without a word between them, Kyo rips the cocoon back open and climbs to the top, Yuki following him. They're a couple dozen feet over the ground, and they take a moment just to look at the strange town below them.

Yuki holds the wing above his head, lets it expand, and they ride. With Brian at this size, on the other end of town but still visible from here (he appears to be stationary for the time being, and Kyo wishes he could interpret the expression on his mashed-up abstract face), sticking close to the ground seems the best bet to stay out of sight. The concrete skims past a few feet below them, and it feels like they're moving a lot faster than they probably are.

The wing slows smoothly as the restaurant approaches, and they find Izzy sitting in a plastic chair at a plastic table under the plastic awning. She raises a hand in acknowledgement. She looks both on the verge of passing out and a lot happier than she should be.

"You do realize it looks like we're all gonna die, right?" says Kyo by way of greeting.

"Chill," she says. "Mine put the spell back in place, and her powers are stronger than mine are. What we've got to do..." She trails off, head slumping forward. Kyo leans towards her and sees her eyes are closed. He pokes her. "Ah?" she says. "Oh, sorry. Um..."

"You were about to inform us of how to solve this all," says Yuki.

"Right. He's big, but with no powers, so we should be able to stop him."

"We don't have any powers either at the moment," says Yuki.

"Are you sure Kaivamonious is dead?" says Izzy.

"Not positive, but he's definitely not up to fighting anything."

"Let's find him."

They take the wing again, and Izzy seems positively ecstatic. Sure, flying is cool and all, but considering the context Kyo is becoming increasingly irritated by her happy-happy-joy-joy. Friggin' magic users. While she refrains from actually shouting, her "this is so awesome"s are glaringly inappropriate.

At least she sobers up upon seeing the crushed tree. "Kai?" she says hesitantly into the splinters. There's no blood, nothing recognizably not normal-tree-like, but still Kyo feels sick looking at the scene, like inside he is hollow and on the verge of bursting out of his skin at the same time. The feeling is a flood, memories coming back, the last time he felt like this.

It lasted for days weeks months years maybe.

Time passing like something distant, barely felt.

Everything dulled and painful at the same time.

Flashes of could-have-beens taking over everything.

Normal activities: waking up, eating breakfast, walking to school, watching tv, going to sleep: becoming reminders of what was no longer there.

Thoughts of blood and knives and needles and goodbyes never wasted time on.

He shakes it off.

Kai twitches.

_It could just be the wind,_ he tells himself.

Izzy says Kai's name again, and the splinters give another shudder. "Ayame taught me a healing spell," she says.

"But you're out of power," says Yuki.

"But Kyo isn't." He looks up at the sound of his name. "I can sense it from him," says Izzy. "Even if he's never used it before, he has the energy. A lot of it. It's buzzing all around him."

"Some leftover demon shit," mutters Kyo.

"It's what we need. Will you allow me to access your powers."

"Go ahead."

It's like a punch in the stomach, knocking his breath out, then a quick drain. At least it doesn't take long, Fibers of wood knit together, and Kai begins to move, pulling himself up.

There's still a ton of branches on the ground, and Kai doesn't look particularly magnificent, but being part of raising the near-dead _is _kind of cool, Kyo admits inwardly.

"_Thank you," _says Kai.

"_You can speak English?" _says Kyo.

Kaivamonious sighs. _"Your appearance really _is _an accurate representation of your mental abilities, it seems. Pity. Nevertheless, I am indebted to you."_

"_So I'm talking... demon?"_

"_Yes."_

"_How?"_

"_I suspect it would have something to do with you being one."_

"_I just instantly learned it?"_

"_Our language isn't nearly as simplistic as human ones. It's rooted deeply in our consciousness and once we've activated the proper parts of our mind, understandable to all of us. I must admit, I'm impressed - we're speaking a mid-demon language, rather than a lower-level demonspeak. You're less plebian than you behave. Now that we've concluded my cultural guidance, where has my opponent gone?" _

"_Over there." _Kyo points. _"Why?"_

"_So we can finish our battle, of course. Ah, I see him."_

"_He's five times your size."_

"_You truly are clueless of your culture. Agreements must be kept, death before dishonor."_

Although it's insane, it somehow makes Kyo like Kai better. The tree strides towards the dark shape, and Kyo tries not to notice the wobble to the demon's gait.

"What's happening?" says Izzy.

"_The fight's back on," _says Kyo.

"Kyo?"

Right. English. He repeats himself in his human language.

"But he can't possibly win," says Izzy.

"I thought you were all optimistic."

"That doesn't mean I'm crazy."

**12**

Kai doesn't waste time. Izzy, Kyo and Yuki hide out inside another cocoon, peeking out as the scene unfolds. The tree demon approaches Brian and promptly branch-slaps him. Brian picks up the tree and tosses him into the side of a grain elevator. Kai picks himself up off the ground and charges again. Lather, rinse, repeat.

A few more charges, and Brian's annoyance shows through. He spins around, tail gouging all the architecture within a twenty-meter radius, including the cocoon. The surreal feeling of flying, amplified by lack of control and not knowing where the ground is.

Touchdown is a hard slam, and shocks travel up Kyo's spine. Groans all around him, including his own. He pulls himself through the opening, offering his hand to help the others as they follow him.

Except. Oh, shit. This isn't the ground at all, and Izzy isn't here.

The cocoon is on top of a building. At least, half of it is, skewered on the pointed tip of the radio tower. And the other half... He looks around to see Izzy atop a grain elevator. She's conscious, thankfully, but on the slippery, slanted roof she's wrapped desperately around the... the bumpy thing in the center, whatever it is. Beneath her, the cocoon lies on the ground.

"I'm going to help her down," says Yuki. "Coming?"

"I'll wait here."

Yuki's eyes are confused, but he nods, taking to the skies.

Unfortunately, the glowing wing attracts the attention of Brian. He wheels, causing more destruction, and sweeps a claw at Yuki, catching Izzy's elevator as well. Ironically, his strike sets the elevator at an angle where Izzy's better equipped to stand on it. Yuki spins in the air like a dazed butterfly.

Brian swipes again, oddly cat-like in the movement, severing one of the support beams on the far side of the elevator. Metal slowly bends, and the elevator heads towards the ground.

"Throw me the opal!" Kyo yells, past the world crumbling around him.

"Now?" Izzy shouts back. The distance between them continues to expand.

"It's the only way this will work! I'll catch it, trust me!"

She must, because she runs forward, and with a wordless shout flings the sparkling orb at him. It's shining path arcs in the sky and he jumps, catching it to his chest. Yuki spins upward, towards Izzy, miraculously catches her, and the two quickly shrink out of view.

_A human can't hope to use it, but a part-demon on the other hand..._

The opal's weighty, cold smoothness seems to fit Kyo's hand. He thinks it's getting warmer. It _is _heating up. Its temperature increases until he's sure it will burn him, set him aflame and swallow him, but he tightens his fingers around it, and it gives way in his grip, becomes malleable, lighter, melts – but doesn't slip through his fingers. It becomes light. It pours out of his hand, out of him, out into the world. He aims it, suddenly completely sure, at the tree demon.

As the ray hits, the demon emits a deep noise that seems to resonate through the ground itself, and begins to grow, swelling and getting higher. With a smash of branch, it crashes against the sky. A crack appears, amongst the web of plasticky grey ones, but this one is different – sharper, bigger. It blackens. The crack continues, networking the dome in dark lines, and pieces begin to fall, faster and faster, bigger and bigger chunks of sky, knocking against each other, spinning in the air, thin as ribbons but unbending. Before they can hit the ground, they fade, evaporating into nothing.

Brian yells wordlessly and collapses.

It rains. It rains rain and it rains Children of Firebridge.

Kyo jumps. As he falls he changes, and by the time he hits the ground, running and on all fours, he doesn't recognize himself. His claws click against the asphalt as he charges into the fray. Powerful limbs hurtle the Children around, sending them flying into each other, and when they attempt to regroup, surrounding him like hyenas, he tears into them with teeth and claws.

**13**

"The spell is broken," says Ayame quietly. A smile spreads across his face.

The letters dissipate in the air and Mine opens her eyes. She walks over to her boss and the two embrace. She has tears in her eyes and an expression of happiness mirroring Ayame's own.

"Just like that?" says Michael.

"Come to the window."

He obliges, and Cassidy follows him, wrapped in a blanket.

It's black outside. Rain patters against the window, and he watches the rivulets trace their way down, remembering how when he was a child he and his sister would race raindrops down car windows.

"I can't believe it!" says Mine.

"Me neither," says Michael.

"Are you okay?" He can hear her concern.

"Yeah, it's just... I don't know. I thought it would feel better. So everyone's awake now?"

"Not quite," says Ayame. "Spells like this leave some lag on the body, so it will take a few hours. But by the morning, everything should be back to normal."

Normal...

There's a knock on the door. Mine and Ayame run to answer it, laughing in happiness. Michael and Cassidy follow silently.

Ayame's brother and the pink-haired girl are at the door, clothing soaked and ripped, looking exhausted, but also smiling. At least, she is. The boy's face is unreadable, subtly switching between happiness and sadness every few seconds, mostly just tired.

"You've done wonderfully!' says Ayame.

"It was Kyo, mostly," says Yuki, that's his name.

"Where is he?" says Mine.

"Still fighting," says Yuki.

**14**

The sun is beginning to rise. Kyo watches the bright rays leak over the shadowy horizon. The ground beneath him is cold and wet. He's covered in mud. But he doesn't want to move from here.

A sound behind him, like footsteps. That's probably not it.

He's been watching the streetlights click off as morning approaches. He can hear birds calling out.

The image of the Children of Firebridge is burned into his memory, their cries as he tore them apart, their papery shreds combusting blackly on the ground. Their stone hearts abandoned in the streets.

A car engine starts up. There are no more of the demons left around. He'd found Brian lying on the ground after the world had shattered, unconscious and battered but in human form, and breathing. He'd looked small. Kyo had left him there.

"Hey." Kyo looks behind him to the sound of the voice. Yuki gives a tiny wave and anxious smile.

"How did you find me?"

"I looked."

"Everywhere?"

"Pretty much. It's what I've been doing these past few hours."

"I'm not worth it."

"You saved us."

"I'm a monster."

"Who cares?" Yuki sits down behind him on the hill, despite the mud. "That sounds like something you'd say. You're not a monster."

"Did you see what I turned into? What I did? In my true form, all I can do is destroy."

"Don't talk like that. You saved me. That counts for something. Thank you."

**15**

_Don't talk like that. Don't talk at all. _

The absence of Angela, of his brother, of what to do next, all an acute emptiness. But now that he's found Kyo, things are different. He wants to shut Kyo up, to make him smile. His sadness tugs at Yuki's heart, like the hook of a fishing line. And then the feeling washes over him, no words in his thoughts but they're overpowering, like a wall of sound.

He gives in to it. For several seconds, he's so close. To Kyo, to life, everything is like the webs of light glimmering at the surface of water, guiding him to the air and sun and land he's never been able to reach. Finally touching, it runs through him like electricity. They're so conductive. And for a few seconds, he doesn't think about what happens next.

**16**

They break apart, stare at each other for a long time.

"I – I should go," says Yuki, rising clumsily to his feet. "Feel better."

"Uh, thanks!' says Kyo, more enthusiastically than he means to.

Listening to the sound of Yuki's departing steps in the mud, he turns back towards the sunrise. It's quite a bit brighter now, blue rising to fill the sky.

He collapses on his back into the cool mud, under the panoramic pale sky.

Did that really just happen? He can still feel it...

It's been so long since he's seen so much blue.

Yuki's lips against his

Look at the sky.

Holy shit.

**17**

Outside the school, Tohru jogs to catch up with Rin. "I had the longest dream last night," she says. "You were in it. Um, I just thought you should know."

"What happened?" says Rin. Tohru looks blank. Rin says, "In your dream."

"I forget," says Tohru.

"Then why did you tell me?"

"I... thought you might be interested." She frowns, but it quickly fades. "What did you dream about?"

As the double doors close behind them, Rin says, "I don't dream."

**18**

"This morning, citizens were shocked by the sight that greeted them upon awakening. Meteorlogists are puzzled by a localized storm that swept through in the night, causing hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of damage."

"It's quite something, Cathy."

"That it is, Tom. Thankfully, no one appears to have been injured, though damage reports are still coming in. In other news, it seems Coalbird is somehow two days behind the rest of the world. Researchers are trying to figure out what exactly happened to these missing fourty-eight hours. Scientists say that the tilt of the earth's axis, as a result of recent weather patterns, has led to a slight decrease in the length of our days, which has been accumulating over time."

"Strange, strange world. We'll be covering this story at eight."

Izzy paces through the living room, blocking Sharla's view of the tv. "I can't believe it," she says.

"It is pretty unbelievable," says Sharla. "I was under a spell?"

"Nearly everyone was. Hell, I have no _idea _why I wasn't too."

"Lucky, I guess."

"Dammit! This makes me so angry! About Michael, I mean."

Sharla's heart sinks. "I've been meaning to tell you..."

"How could they put him back in jail? He turned himself in!"

"Izzy..."

"Yeah, I know, he was the suspect, but Brian confessed to them! And if you've actually met Michael, there's no way he could have-"

"Izzy!"

"What?"

"Michael..." Sharla can't continue.

The tv drones on, "...have taken another suspect into custody, whose name is being withheld due to his age. Michael Scribner, the previous suspect and husband of the deceased, committed suicide earlier today after being taken into police custody."

Sharla clicks the remote and the tv goes blank. Izzy stares at the black box, slumps down on the couch beside Sharla. Tears begin to stream down her cheeks, and she puts her head in her hands and sobs. Nurit comes into the room, holds her daughter and says comforting things in Hebrew that Sharla can't understand.

...

**A/N: **whew. that's it for this plotline. sorry for the wait – i had no idea endings took me so long to write. this storyline was quite a different direction for me, and i am interested to how you guys think it worked out. i hope i didn't depress you too much. reviews are loved. next up is Rin's turn. happy holidays, everyone!


	19. 17: emotional feedback

Thank you, Vikertee and dishrag-chan. This is a different kind of chapter. It's kind of experimental but maybe less experimental than the regular chapters. It took me forever to write because I kept adding stuff in and then taking it out (there are three thousand words or so that didn't end up in this draft). More canon characters will show up in future chapters, along with an actual plot. I am trying to start and end each chapter with a dream from a different character. Some of these scenes are relevant to the plot, others are not. But I try to make them all at least show some characterization and background info. You can skip them if you hate dreams. Please ignore the glaring historical inaccuracies, I tried to research but I'm still paranoid I messed up horribly. At any rate it is a small part of the story.

I couldn't think of a song that fit, so here's a poem I wrote when I was fourteen, only edited to be shorter and less sucky. It possibly does not fit either. I am a failure!

So, poetry and dream sequences. Yeah. I hope I am not as pretentious as this author's note makes me feel.

Evil Town  
Chapter 17  
emotional feedback

scraped knees and car keys  
borderline frozen dreams  
it's the insignificant things that always stay with me

-

city lit up with  
multicoloured flames, we  
pace the icebergs, we  
wait for changes to  
float like fireflies or  
embers towards the horizon.  
smoke rises up from chemical  
cages, looking like nothing;  
looking so promising.

we throw our hands to the sky.  
lost in the buzzing like an  
airplane on a runway  
abandoned in the back of  
our minds.

i'll never forget this. burn  
up at the edges, fade out  
with the times, but when it's  
this dark out i feel alive.  
broadcast our secrets, let's  
dance in the rain. if this is the  
end, that's fine.

**Rin**

It's different every time, but it always begins the same.

In the tepid air, the claustrophobic darkness is like a hand over my mouth. I try to make my body as small as possible, wishing I could melt into the floor.

Wires hum. I can hear them, feel them through the walls, reaching out towards me. _No. _I tell them to stop, but they continue to buzz. Their calls increase in strength and volume. And I pretend I don't want it, I try to put up a fight, but my breathing eases, like a brick pressing down on my chest has suddenly vanished.

A lightbulb flickers up above. And everything connects. I press my hands against the walls and let the static overflow, and the circuit is complete.

It builds up around me, drawing energy from the air, from me. The intensity of it burns my skin, but under the surface I am as cold as stone and I feel as dead. Light and colour fill and then drain from the room; the outlines of shoes and blankets and boxes become thin lines drawn in grey sand. Except near the ceiling, where a small ball of white light slowly rises. It feels like it will ignite my eyes, but I force myself to look at it.

The door slams open with a clatter and a blaze of more light, and I turn my back, try to scramble away. Hands grab me roughly from behind. I am small, and they pick me up. They are not careful, pushing air out of me, twisting my body sharply, they press too hard into my skin. It hurts. But I don't care; the pain is distant now, like it's not a part of me. It means nothing. I don't understand the language of hurt anymore.

It ends now. Still staring at the light, I hear a cry from behind me as it bursts, sending white fiery knives out in all directions, ripping through furniture, walls, towards us. Glass shatters and I'm hit, dropped. My eyes close, I think, or the explosions in my head just stop them from working.

The next thing I clearly sense, amidst the chaos and confused sensory reception, is the stinging in my arm. I turn my head to look, but even that movement causes the world to tilt. Everything in my head feels like it is going to spill out.

Dark blood leaks from a diagonal slash on my mid-arm. I sit up. Just look at the injury for a few seconds. I didn't know I could bleed so much, so fast. I thought I would feel more. I say the words that cause the skin to close up, and fresh scar tissue shines in the light slipping in through the broken walls.

Small fires devour the curtains and sofa. With more words, I extinguish those, reducing the lively flames to ash, holes in fabric.

Plaster knocked from the damaged ceiling casts fine, white dust over everything. The black-haired woman in the corner isn't moving. Red leaks through the rips in her clothes, the scratches on her exposed skin, dyes the dust red. She is black and white and red all over, like a bad joke, and I am too scared to get close enough to see if she is breathing.

Outside shines through the holes in the wall and ceiling, gashes of blue sky and green lawn. Summer is ending and it's getting cold. I crawl through the opening, out into the backyard. Then climb up the tree overlooking the neighborhood. Through the canopy I watch over the fence as neighbors gather to stare at the dark cloud rising from the house, and I listen to the sirens get louder until they fill the air. I let the noise flow through my head, blotting out my thoughts. The loudness and the cold wind makes me feel oddly alive, and I watch the sky darken as I wait for someone to notice me and for my life to change forever.

And then I wake up.

**x**

My breathing is too loud for the darkness that surrounds me. I feel like I've just fought my way to the surface after being shoved underwater. It's nowhere close to morning and all of me is sore.

I brush an index finger up the opposite arm, and the heat startles me. I kick my blankets onto the floor and sit up, pulling my knees to my chest. I try to slow my breathing, take comfort in the December air.

The too-hot not-enough-air feeling lingers. I'm on fire. And I'm drowning. At the same time.

Well isn't that special.

When the dizziness subsides enough that I can stand, I step onto the cold floor and walk over to the windows, pushing back the curtains. Sunlight leaks over the horizon, the colour of crushed rose petals or diluted blood.

I flip the light switch, take some headache meds, and start the day.

There's time for some Tracking before school, which I've resolved to go to today. If I keep skipping at this rate, eventually administration is going to find _someone _to report me to.

**Tohru**

I'm worried about Rin.

It's the first time I've seen her in a few days, and my heart jumps as she sits down beside me. "Are you alright?" I say. "Were you sick?" She doesn't look well. Her skin is pale and her eyes are dull, and when she entered the room she seemed to be limping slightly – did I imagine that?

"Fine. Just busy," she says.

"Tracking?"

"Yeah."

I take notes as the teacher writes out a complicated formula on the board – partly because I know it's important, mostly because I just can't think of the right thing to say.

She says, "Can I borrow your notes from the days I missed? Karen's not lending hers to me anymore."

"I'm not sure if they're very good, but you're welcome to them."

"Thanks."

Rin is in her second year here, and it is her second time taking this class. She says the first time she didn't get a high enough mark to qualify for the scholarship she wants. Some kind of exchange program.

We eat lunch together in the cafeteria, just as we usually do when she's here. "Did what you were working on have anything to do with Mr. Nishikawa?" I say. His name is going to come up eventually – it always does, lately. She'll never admit it, but what he said really got to her.

I know what that's like, all thoughts leading back to one topic.

"No," she says. "I haven't seen him, so he must have gone back to the city. It's probably not worth trying to talk to him, anyway. Either his memory's going or he outright lied to us." Here it comes. "He talks about the past like it's so much better than the present, but if he lived here when he said he did, everyone would still have been holding World War Two against him."

"That would have been terrible," I agree, though I know that's not the part of his speech that's really bothering her.

"I levitated my pencil case yesterday," I say.

She must see through my attempt at changing the topic, but she brightens. "Congratulations. I think you're ready to move on to some spells."

At this moment, a shadow falls over me and I look up to see Marcus. He smiles, sits down beside me.

He saw me sitting by myself a few days ago and came over to join me, and since then we've been spending a lot of time together. He's been kind to me, but I always get the impression that he's a bit worried about something.

"What were you talking about?" he says.

Unsure of how much he's heard, I say the first thing to come to mind. "Isuzu's training me for the, um, spelling bee!"

"Oh?" he says. "I didn't know you were interested in things like that."

Me neither. "Yes, it's very interesting!"

"Can you spell something for me?"

"You know, I would very much like to, but Isuzu and I have agreed that it would be best to keep our techniques private until the competition in case of... spies."

"And you look suspicious," says Rin dryly.

Marcus gets an odd expression, so I add quickly, "She's joking."

He says to her, "So, how come you aren't entering the competition, too?"

"Family reasons. You know what they're like, saying how one proper spelling is an elitist attitude and all that." She raises a fist towards the ceiling in mock protest. "Down with traditionalism."

"They sound like the opposite of my family."

"You're lucky."

"Not really. Anyway," he turns back towards me, "Kyo, Ian and John are getting annoyed with me for ignoring them these past few days, so I'd better catch up with them. See you around."

"Bye. Nice talking to you." Once he's out of earshot, I say to Rin, "So, spells don't sound like something I should be practicing in math class."

"Probably not. Unless the teacher is surprisingly tolerant and non-inquisitive towards accidentally ignited ceilings, or desks transforming into elemental beasts." Seeing my expression, she adds, "Not that these things are _that _common. But it's good to be prepared. If you've got some time on Friday, I know a place we can go to practice."

"That sounds great," I say, but I'm distracted. She's never mentioned her family to me, only that she lives alone. I don't have the confidence to ask why, or about if what she said to Marcus is true. And it bothers me that I'm afraid to ask this.

**Arisa**

After school I stop by my old house to salvage pieces from the mess I left behind when I moved out. There's something about it, how this was the place I grew up, that makes me stand for a moment staring down the hallway, like I'm waiting for something to happen. Something to define the shift from then to now, a new segment of my life - but all I can think is that this place seems a lot smaller than it used to. Ceiling lowered, walls drawn closer together.

The smallness makes it all seem less real, like there are so many other things I could have forgotten or misremembered. Like maybe what happened here will continue to fade until I am a different person with a different set of experiences.

Screw it. It does no good to think about any of these things, and if I keep wasting time it won't be long before _he _shows up. So I go to my old room, only briefly allowing my eyes to take in the things I'd tacked up on the walls and door ages ago: the band posters and photographs and drawings and plastic glow-in-the-dark stars. I open the closet and fold some clothes into the cardboard box I brought with me, flattening them down with four spellbooks I add after on top. I put one of the jackets on over the one I'm already wearing and fill both sets of pockets with powerstones and amulets and other small, enchanted things, most of which I found or made.

Kicking the door shut behind me, I leave with the box heavy in my hands. Hanajima silently helps me load it into the back of her family's car. Then we climb into our seats, her at the wheel, me on the passenger side.

"How did it go?" she asks as she turns the key. A black feather and a mogeta figurine dangle from thin chains on the ring.

"No problem," I say.

Hanajima goes to my school. Two weeks ago, I talked to her for the first time. I saw her sitting at the edge of the field writing in a notebook while I was at soccer practice. After purposely kicking the ball out of bounds and volunteering to retrieve it, I jogged over in her direction.

"Hey," I said.

She looked up, then back at her notebook. "Hello." She was writing furiously – her whole body was almost entirely still, except for her hand flying across the page. The old-fashioned pen she used shone in the dimming sunlight, flashes of orange and purple shooting across the shiny black surface. Indigo ink sat in a bottle beside her, and left her pen shimmering on the page. Her script was complicated, handwriting-y and I couldn't read it without looking obnoxious and obvious.

"Is this about the situation in Coalbird?" I asked, gesturing to the page.

She shook her head, still writing. After several seconds she paused, took a long look at the page, gave a curt nod, and dotted a period at the end of the last word she'd written. "It's finished," she pronounced, setting it down beside her to dry.

"That's great, but what is it?"

"A homework assignment. A romance story in which both parties' lives are tragically cut short."

"Oh," I said.

"But they're very happy together in the afterlife."

"That's... good."

"Do you think I will lose marks because it is seventeen pages as opposed to the recommended one page? I compensated by making the whole piece a single sentence, and I really cannot cut anything out if I am to keep the plot intact."

I didn't exactly see her logic as for how that compensated, but writing isn't my strong point. "Maybe. Some teachers probably like that sort of thing. Who do you have for l.a.?"

"Oh, this isn't for l.a.. It's a chemistry assignment."

After a silence, I said, "What exactly were you supposed to do?"

"Provide an explanation for the various types of chemical reactions. Which I did, of course, through the use of metaphor. Double replacement reactions can be so cruel."

For a moment I was unsure what to say to this. Finally I said, "Cool."

She smiled.

"Arisa!" someone shouted, startling me out of the daze I'd fallen into. Something about this girl dressed all in black, sitting cross-legged in the middle of a field talking about metaphorical chemical afterlife love seemed to slow the world down. "Do you almost have it?"

It? Right. Ball.

"I'll see you around," I said to the girl. "I'm Arisa – as you just heard."

"My name is Saki Hanajima."

I ran off to get the ball. Unfortunately, I'd overestimated how far I'd have to kick it to get to her, so I ended up running another two blocks after the school grounds ended. For the rest of the day's session, my teammates kept the ball well out of my reach.

After everything had been packed up and we all shook hands, I grabbed my backpack from my locker and headed towards the main exit. Hanajima sat waiting at a table in the main foyer (yeah, that's how pretentious our school is – we have a 'foyer', and presumably more than one although I've never heard any area of the building referred to as a non-main foyer) sipping a cup of coffee.

I raised a hand in greeting, and she stood and began walking beside me. "So you enjoy soccer?" she said. It didn't come across as a lame attempt to make conversation – everything Saki Hanajima said had a kind of gravity about it, like she stripped her words down to only what was necessary.

"Yeah, I guess. It's not my favorite sport, but I'm pretty good at it, and I've heard the I.L.P. people like it if you're on teams." She was silent, so I clarified, "The Independent Living Program."

"Are you signed on to it?"

"Trying to." Why was I telling her this? We exchange a couple dozen words and I felt the need to let her in on things I'd only discussed with the school councilor after a _lot _of internal debate?

"Do you live around here?" I said as we crossed the street.

"Not really."

"You might want to turn back, then. Not that I'm trying to get rid of you or anything," – not that she was probably thinking I was, until I said I wasn't – and I wasn't by the way – "but I live pretty far away."

"I have time. I've already finished my homework."

I briefly wondered if she'd stayed after school to wait for me, then decided that was an egotistical way to think.

It turns out, though, that she wasn't kidding about having time. As I found out in the times to come, Saki Hanajima seems to have more hours in her day than anyone else. From what I've seen, her grades are pretty good, despite the elaborate projects she hands in that in no way resemble the original assignment.

(I still haven't figured out if she's deliberately trying to confuse or annoy teachers or just has a strange way of interpreting instructions – knitting a sweater for math was definitely reaching. She's never mentioned ever getting in trouble for it, maybe because the things she makes take way more time and effort than what was expected.)

And yet, she still founds the time to help me fill out the forms for the program and to go with and support me as I applied, and to discuss magic and work on homework together and to just hang out. We watched bad movies and play cards at her house. She helped me set up my apartment. We threw an apartment-warming party, but Rin couldn't make it so it was just her and me and her little brother, Megumi, the three of us eating take-out and watching Korean horror flicks with the subtitles off, making up what was happening and narrating to each other.

So now, I guess, I live there officially. Hana parks the car outside the building and gets out with me. Up two flights of stairs to the top floor, I reach for the string around my neck and pull the key out from under my jacket. The place the door opens into is small, and will still be empty-looking even after I unload the box. But as Hana and I go over the plans for modifying a locator spell, it will be hard to think of anywhere else I'd rather be.

**Sharla**

Two-hundred thirty-four years ago, Trevor Westweaver was born to a farming family. Some sources say they were poor, others say rich, so I'll compromise and say they were middle-class, just for the sake of imagery. It doesn't really matter; when he was a young child, the farm burned to the ground, killing his mother. His father decided Westweaver wasn't worth the trouble of raising on his own, so he was sent to live with his mother's sister and her husband.

They were extremely strict guardians, she a schoolteacher, he a military general. Westweaver hated them both, but had nowhere else to go. They already had several other children, who they are said to have favored over their nephew, who seemed to be neither particularly talented nor useful to have around. He was a sullen boy who did poorly in school and had few friends.

His adopted family was surprised when he expressed an interest in the military and decided to go into military school. Predicting he would soon drop it, they made him pay his own admission with money he received from odd jobs and which he begged his father for. They were even more surprised when he not only stayed in the course, but excelled in it.

After graduation, he was given permission to lead an expedition to claim an area of Western Canada for settler control, after a Native rebellion has arisen and killed the group of settlers originally sent.

Westweaver promptly set out to re-steal the land. He began by checking in with a settled community near where the rebellion had taken place. He decided the root of the problem was an insufficient level of fear in the indigenous population, and so set about declaring rigid laws and putting to death anyone who disobeyed them. They resulted in dozens of settlers being executed, but casualties were much higher amongst Native groups, who had difficulty understanding the badly explained foreign laws.

Westweaver met his wife, Emily, at the colony. They were married quickly and had a son together, but she died the following winter as another wave of sickness hit. Westweaver coped by becoming increasingly tyrannical, declaring himself a king and cutting off contact with the rest of the world. Upon hearing a rumor that tribes further north were planning to come avenge those he'd killed, Westweaver left his son behind and headed another expedition, intending to strike first.

Instead, he caught tuberculosis and was killed in his sleep by his uncle, one of the men he'd trusted enough to bring with. It kind of says something for how afraid people were of him – he had to be not only asleep, but horribly ill before anyone dared attack. Also, as far as anyone's been able to tell, the rumor about another uprising was fabricated by his own 'subjects'.

So the end results of his disastrous rule? Coal was discovered around the area he was struck down, resulting in a mining town springing up almost overnight. Coalbird. Most Europeans from the old settlement moved out there, and between that and the severely-depleted Native population, there was less all-out warfare despite still-present tensions. For some reason, the makeshift town Westweaver left behind took a name for his deserted child – Leftson.

I haven't been able to find anything yet about what happened to the kid.

Trevor Westweaver, on the other hand, now stews away in an ancient vase, sitting on the cabinet across from Izzy's bed. The first thing she sees every morning, the last thing she sees every night. She moved it there the night she heard about Michael Scribner's death.

I wish I knew the right thing to say.

Ever since she heard about his suicide, Izzy's been alternating between impassioned monologuing about injustice, and silent moods where she works continuously on homework, Tracking or research. She spends a lot of time out of the house, Tracking, and she's been sifting through thick, ancient spellbooks.

She's working hard. She's doing such a great job that even her mom is taking notice. It's just... I wish I had my friend back. And I wish she was happy.

I'm selfish, I guess.

**Arisa**

I meet Rin at the station later that night. "How was school?" I say.

She shrugs. "Tolerable."

"I guess it's always weird going back."

She turns away and starts walking, so I fall into step beside her without another word. I remove a thin blue band from my wrist and snap it between my fingers. It disintegrates into a fine powder, which rises up into a small glimmering cloud. We follow the locator spell into an alley, where it hovers above a grey, monkeyish demon, if monkeys had fangs and red eyes. The demon sits atop a dumpster, watching us with mild interest as its legs dangle over the edge.

"Maybe this is what's been attacking those cows," I say.

Rin says, "No, it's a rafsi demon. They eat bugs."

Damn, did I mess up the locator spell? Hana and I had been trying to modify it to zone in on only dangerous magical energy – rafsi demons and the like need to be sent back to their own world so they don't mess up the ecosystem or attract more powerful demons, but since worse stuff is already out there, that's not high priority at the moment.

The dumpster shakes suddenly, emitting a deep rumble that I can feel moving up from the pavement into my bones. The rafsi demon shrieks and bolts, scrambling up the wall, claws scratching against the bricks. It peeks over the rafter, only to be grabbed by a thick pale tentacle that whips out from under the lid. The demon cries out for only a fraction of a second before being dragged under and silenced.

I take a few steps backwards, begin concentrating my energy into my hands. The baritone noises continue to escape the dumpster. When another tentacle emerges, this time heading for Rin, I'm prepared – I unleash a stream of flames at the appendage, which blackens and draws back. There's a hissing noise, and I'm not sure whether it's the flames or the demon, and a horrible smell, like rotting eggs. I briefly fall into a coughing fit.

When I look up, Rin is casting a spell, and a shower of white sparks cover the dumpster. It rumbles louder than ever, then goes silent.

After the last spark fizzles out, I approach the thing. The lid's down, and I grab a stick off the ground to prop it open. The demon's inside – it's a slimy kind of white colour, kind of between a squid and a giant spider in terms of shape, or a lone lumpy meatball surrounded by spaghetti. Too many eyes, all closed, bulging all over a ball shape covered in at least as many legs or tentacles, limply collapsed all around it.

One of the eyes twitches. I break open another of my bracelets, and the dust scatters over the demon. The air darkens and wavers, and the demon fades out. Back to its own world.

I turn to Rin. "Are you alright?"

"Fine."

"No," I say, beginning to walk. "Something's wrong. If I wasn't there, that demon would have got you and normally you're the faster one to react. What's wrong?"

"Nothing important."

"It's distracting you from your job and it's putting you in danger. If it was someone else, you'd be asking them the same question." Her face betrays no emotion. "If you won't tell me as a friend, then tell me as a Tracker."

She looks away, but says. "Fine, but it's stupid. I got a letter today, from Carmen. She's coming back. They all are."

"And this is a problem, because...?"

"Look, you wouldn't get it."

"Try explaining."

"When they were gone, I got to control my own life. Now that's over. Now I'm the weird one again, the which-thing-doesn't-belong."

For a moment I don't know how to respond. "But they care about you," I say lamely.

"I don't expect you to understand."

"No, I totally get it." I let sarcasm take hold of my voice. "Having people around who look out for you, who ask about your day – that sucks." I'm not being clever. My words are blunt and plain. I'm too irritated to be clever. "Look, if you're not up to Tracking today, just go home."

I cast another locator spell and follow it. Rin walks off in another direction. I only stay out another half-hour or so before going back to my apartment, where I try to watch t.v. but am unable to concentrate on any program enough to follow it. I shut it off and debate calling Rin, just to see that she made it home okay, but decide against it. I end up doing homework instead. I'm not sure if the words I'm writing make any sense, and my pencil tears the paper three times.

**Rin**

How do you explain that you need to keep someone away, not in spite of, but because they care about you?

I reread the letter. The page and a half of papyrus. Try to be annoyed by the swirly, childish printing. The blue ink, the 'i's dotted with stars. Try to refrain from caring about them. If I let myself love those stars, someone gets hurt.

The envelope slips from my fingers onto the checkerboard linoleum.

I take my cell from my pocket, stare at it as I try to convince myself the sooner I start, the sooner it will be over. Contact list. Select. Beep.

Two rings. A tired, happy "Hello?"

"It's me."

"Isuzu! I haven't heard from you in a while."

"I've been busy."

"School?"

"Yeah," I lie.

"Tracking?"

"Yeah."

She sighs. "I hope you're taking care of yourself."

"I am."

"You know I worry about you."

"I know."

"How are you?"

"Fine. So you're coming back..."

"This Friday. We can come pick you up from school, if you'd like. I can't believe how long it's been since we last saw each other!"

"Yeah. No, I can walk home."

"Are you-"

"It's fine."

"Jade and Delisle miss you."

"I doubt it."

"I'll tell them you said hi."

"Okay."

"I love you."

"Yeah. You too."

I click off the phone and turn it over in my hands for several minutes.

I check my email, do my homework, brush my teeth and go to bed. My eyes don't want to close. I develop a headache.

When I look out the window to try to gauge what time it is, the streets suddenly darken as streetlights extinguish. Did I do that?

I have a nightmare I'm on a boat, a gigantic ship. No one is steering it, and we're headed straight towards rocks. I try to get someone's attention, but they're all too engaged in conversation. They look at me like I'm not there.

We hit the rocks. The boat starts to sink. No one even cares; they continue chatting and drinking champagne as the water rises above their heads. They don't try to swim. They go down as shimmers of colour slowly fading to black, then to nothing. I kick, trying to stay above, but something is wrapped around my ankle, dragging me. The water is boiling hot. My face goes under and I look down, seeing a hand grabbing me. No, it's a tentacle. A scrap of red cloth. A flag. A piece of seaweed. A, a.

I wake up and it's not light and it's not morning. I try to get back to sleep but keep having shallow half-dreams of falling down, and when my alarm clock goes I have the urge to smash it into a thousand fragments.

**Sharla:**

I've been walking on a bridge and halfway across, I stop. I stand, looking over the edge, arms folded atop the thick rope supporting the structure. Water tumbles, white with speed, over my head, over the edge. I look up, into the droplets and mist. It's impossible to see where it's coming from, only above. And below... I look down and the depth seems to pull me in. The sweet rushing sound is hypnotic.

This is an old bridge. I can feel the years digging into the wooden planks as they sway in the energy and the weight of water and of me. Sometimes through the white of water, flashes of grey are visible. The jagged rocks that pull this downward stream to thread, to vapor. I look across, towards the end of the bridge. Only there is no end. It plunges forward straight into more water. I turn back behind me, and it is the same.

No, it is an illusion, it is the mist, the bridge must end and begin. Otherwise where have I been going? What are these ropes attached to? Where did I come from?

I look over the ropes again. Something isn't right, but I can't help being calm. Something is going to happen, with that inevitability that means I have no reason to worry. Down, down, down, the water falls, crashing with a hush, filling the air with humidity and soft sounds. I feel hands on my back, right by my shoulder blades, pushing me over.

The ropes disappear and I fall. I know I must see her face, and I know I must die, but I have no clear image of either of these things, although the rest of the dream is vivid. But I know the feeling of falling, totally unsuspended and doomed, and it's a relief, those last moments of hopeless weightless guiltless existence, and I'd done all I could and I blamed no one.

The next thing I am aware of is being in a room. It is a white room, with a beige carpet, and it is an empty room aside from the assorted pieces of furniture assembled in a circle in the center and the adults sitting on them. I am young in this dream, maybe seven or eight, and these grim-faced people tower over me, sitting on piano benches and ottomans and mismatched chairs and sofas. My chair is too big for me.

I swing my legs above the carpet in boredom or anticipation. Everyone around me is looking at the woman who pushed me off the bridge. "I didn't do it," she is saying. She looks scared, like she is fighting back tears. She's slightly overweight, with a plain style of red or reddish brown curly hair and a round, pale face. I must have seen her somewhere before, before the dream. She could be a relative from my mom's side of the family. I could have seen her face in a photo album. There's no way I could make up someone so real.

The man sitting on a piano bench says to me, "Is this the woman who killed you?" I look at her again. It has to be her. It looks just like her. But she seems so worried, and I want to believe her. She is so helpless, much more helpless than me, and I don't want to see an adult this way.

"No," I say. Even though I know something about her is not quite right, the way she says things makes me believe her.

And then it comes in through the walls. It must, because there are no doors in this room. It's her, but not. It's only her head, and it's wrong. The skin is green and scarred, I can see through her. The adults freeze. The flying head is coming towards me, jaws working, teeth gnashing. I run towards the slightly-off woman, who is staring at her other self with an expression of frozen terror, and I climb into her lap. I press my face into her neck, squeeze my eyes shut, feel her hair fall around me. Because if anyone can protect me, it's only her.

I die. The dream ends there, so I must. You can't die in a dream. Except I already did. Things kept going. Can ghosts die again? I closed my eyes and opened them to the ordinary darkness of my room. I didn't get my answers. I died offscreen, as a ghost in my own dream.


	20. 18: Different Sky

Thank you, Vikertee. Today's chapter title is from the song _A Poem For Byzantium _by Delerium. I'm having a lot of weird health problems lately. I've had a headache nearly every day since the start of March and have been missing a lot of school. So if I'm slow to update and my writing is different than usual, that's why. Hopefully the quality hasn't gone down. There are more OCs in this chapter, as well as more canon character stuff. There is so much planned for this story that I have to write to explain how everyone ties together. It's going to be complicated. And big. But if I remember to put everything in, then every character is a necessary component.

Evil Town  
Chapter 18  
Different Sky

**John**

I feel the pressure through my suit. I look like a spaceman, we all do. But this is earth.

The dark water stretches as far as I can see in any direction, leaching colour from the ruined city, fading to black below, blue above. We excavate the rubble, the rotted hallways of apartment buildings, pushing our way through. Even with all the people around, it's a solitary process.

We don't talk, can't talk through our black gleaming helmets. I can't see anyone's face and that makes them even more unreal. We just pass each other, no acknowledgement. I open doors, look around, leave, stomping awkwardly through the halls or swimming. Time feels delayed.

I'm not sure what I'm looking for, but it doesn't seem like I'm going to find it. This must have been a hotel. All the rooms look the same. Bed sheets and curtains sway in the current but never leave their places. What am I looking for? Maybe it is proof that people used to live here.

I pick up a pillow and throw it. It floats languidly across the room, drifts to the floor.

There's a noise coming from outside. Was that there before? It's getting louder. I push the curtains aside and look through the window. A group of divers, underwater in their astronaut suits, surrounds a building, grasping the edges of the roof. They pull up on it, kicking their legs down or pushing against the walls of the building with them, clearly working very hard. They're ripping the roof off. But where's the sound coming from?

A shadow falls over me and I spin around. Another astronaut. I beckon him towards the window but he shakes his head. The movement is slow, side to side. I keep pointing, try to ask him what's going on, but it's hard with just gestures, especially with these thick gloves.

He removes his helmet. Cole Thunder stands before me, his black hair moving in the current around his head like a separate entity. I bang my hand against the glass. White lightening-bolt cracks spread from the impact, and the window shatter silently, falling around my feet.

The humming is so loud now I can feel it all through me. They're lifting the roof, something glowing is shining out of it, bright yellow. I turn back to Cole. He's smiling. I pull of my helmet, chuck it out the window. Suddenly I realize I have no idea what to say.

His smile is so bright. There are schools of fish in the room, shimmering vibrantly. Their wide eyes take everything in. There are sea anemones on the pillows, on the windowsill, on the walls, arms waving brightly. It's all so intense I can't help being scared, even though there's nothing bad. The noise is so loud and why is he smiling?

He knows something I don't. They all know something. I realize I can't breathe underwater.

Any moment I'm going to die. Any moment I'm going to wake up. It's so bright. There's something I should do but I don't know what it is. Cole waves goodbye, turns his back and walks from the room. I take a deep breath full of water and wake up coughing.

**Hatori**

"Hatori!"

Everything was a different colour then. A lot of stone buildings, and stars even shone brightly over cities because there was less light pollution. I miss the stars.

Streets were less crowded, the first cars only beginning to dot the streets. Roofless with wind-up engines, proud red paint jobs and never quiet.

Permed women in long, complicated dresses. Men in long-sleeved shirts and shiny shoes.

I closed the curtains and moved to answer the door. "Don't be so loud," I told my agent as he entered. "I'm trying to keep a low profile."

"Aren't you always?" said Christopher as he surveyed my apartment, spending a long while staring at the white walls with a knowing expression.

"Please sit down," I said, pouring us both cups of black tea.

"You're never one for decoration, are you Tori?" Christopher said as he sat down.

"No. I never stay in one place long, so there's no reason to bother. What is this visit about?"

"I got you a spot for a radio interview tomorrow, Star Station with Kana Langton – you up for it?"

"What time?"

"Seven A.M., so don't worry, long as this stays hush you're unlikely to be mobbed in the streets." He glanced towards the covered window. "Honest, Hatori – if you're so uncomfortable with fame, why work to be where you are in the first place?"

"It's something I can do well."

Christopher laughed. "I can imagine why. Acting must be easy when you're a blank slate."

"I'll do the interview," I said. "I'm not blank," I added, trying to say it casually, "I'm simply cautious about who I let into my life."

"Right. Anyway, good luck with the interview."

**Tohru**

Rin and I go into Leftson on Friday. She leads us to a row of identical white houses – at least, at first glance they look identical. One of them stands out, with peeling paint and a lawn overgrown with thistles, their barbed leaves poking out from beneath the snow. Of course, that's the house we go to. Rin opens the unlocked door. It's dark inside.

"Bogwin infestation," she says, noticing my hesitation to enter.

"B-bogwin?"

"They feed on dark thoughts, take all kinds of horrifying forms. But they're harmless if you don't let them bother you, since they're physically powerless. Once they realize they can't get fear to absorb from you they tend to stay out of sight."

"Okay..."

"I'll cast a repellant charm if they get too close."

"Thank you."

As soon as I walk through the doorway, I'm hit by a wave of gloom. The temperature seems to drop ten degrees. Spiky shadows warp over objects I can't make out. There's a sound like wind and some kind of clicking.

Rin says something in the ancient language. The shadows grind to a halt and the room goes silent. Several things scuttle into the corners, like cockroaches.

"Those were them," says Rin. She casts an illumination spell. Even in the greenish light it's clear she's paler than usual, despite her attitude that the bogwins were nothing to worry about.

In the light, the house doesn't look bad. The windows are boarded up but the furniture is all intact and not bad quality. There's no visible damage to anything, and the living room all in all looks fairly typical. There's even a t.v..

"People think it's haunted here," says Rin. "So it's a safe place for magic users to practice, since any weird stuff that happens could just be seen as ghost business. And only we'd dare to come here."

"Is that why the Trackers don't get rid of the bogwin?"

"That and they're not high priority. Anyone brave enough to stay long around bogwin isn't the type they'd prey on, seeing as they prefer an easy meal. Eating all that fear makes them pretty afraid themselves, so the moment someone stands up to them they usually give up on that person."

Rin likes to talk about demons and magic, and I like to listen. It's complicated, all the rules of her world, but it's interesting. I've always been worried about not knowing things – it comes from all the places I've lived, all the different languages and customs around me. There was so much I'd try to remember that I'd forget the obvious things, or I'd mix up rules from different places and situations. But Rin never makes me feel bad for not knowing, only answers my questions, even a lot of the unasked ones. I feel safe around her.

We practice levitation first. I'm able to float a couch cushion across the room and land it neatly on the table. I'm not sure who's more surprised at my ability to accomplish this, Rin or I.

As I take a moment to get my energy back, Rin explains about the rules for dealing with demons of different degrees. Some demons are allowed to live in human society providing they fill out the right forms, while others are dangerous to people and the ecosystem and so have to be sent back to where they came from.

Killing demons is supposed to be avoided whenever possible, but has to be done with dangerous demons that are able to open a portal to our world themselves, and with demons that cause destruction for its own purpose. The very high level demons that do not follow the official laws are allowed to be dealt with any way the Tracker wants, although human Trackers usually stay out of their way. There are also non-human Trackers, although they and the human Trackers rarely interact professionally.

It is implied that there are levels of people who do this work that are above Trackers. Rin never seems to want to talk about them.

**Hatori**

She grabbed my arm as I stepped forward. She met my gaze, her eyes pleading me to run. I looked away, back at the man who had broken our window. Candles blown out and the room plunged into darkness, his tall frame made him look like a stretched out shadow against the navy blue backdrop of sky.

"Get out," I said, teeth gritted.

"How rude," he said, voice cold, "to retract your invitation so soon after inviting me."

"I never –" My voice stopped, like the sudden rush of cold through me had frozen sound. I forced myself to turn fear into anger, as though that could unfreeze me. "Why did you come here?"

"I think," he said, striding towards me, his trench coat swaying in the wind, "it's about time we finally settled this. Like men."

"You're not a man. You're a monster."

"So be it, then. I shall settle this as a monster."

I can remember that feeling, the last seconds I had as a human. I can remember her protests as he pushed her aside, the glint in his eyes and his long fingernails. His skin was cold and hard, like a statue, and his fingers around my neck could easily have crushed the life from me. He wouldn't have flinched.

He was taller than me, with long blond hair and eyes that were simultaneously mesmerizing and painful to look at, somehow fiery and dead at the same time. He slowly drew one of his long fingernails down my neck, a long, clean cut, and pinned my shoulders to the wall. He leaned forward and I felt his teeth sink in, felt the warm flow of blood leaving me. I couldn't move. I couldn't tell if he had paralyzed me, like a spider injecting venom into its prey, or if it was the force of my terror pinning me still.

The strangeness of the sensation overwhelmed the pain I should have felt. My life poured out of me, so tangible and warm. I didn't expect dying to be like that. I couldn't honestly say I was even afraid anymore. I was interested to find out that living, and dying, were so clean and efficient, despite the big deal people always made about them. So much stress about death, when really it took hardly any time at all. The room blurred, like I'd been swallowed up by a cloud, and I slumped to the ground. I felt weightless, bodyless, as though I could sink through the floorboards or float through the ceiling, whichever I willed. It was very comfortable.

Suddenly, the process seemed to reverse. The room came back into focus, bright but deeply cold. I was aware my senses had sharpened, were stronger than they had ever been. He looked down on me, smiling, fangs still visible and stained with blood. My blood. I could hear her sobbing in the corner and I wanted to comfort her. I wanted to tell her I was fine. I wanted to feel awful that I had let her be so scared, that I couldn't protect her. I wanted to be so filled with feeling it hurt, like it used to.

But I wasn't. I felt nothing.

I wasn't alive. It was simply that the insignificant, physical components of me hadn't died.

I looked at the thing that had done this to me. I learned I could still hate.

**Tohru**

I repeat after Rin, learning the names of the ancient letters as she draws them in the air with green light. "The oldest language has been lost to humans," she says, "and that's just as well, because the power of those words would be a ridiculous responsibility to handle. But a lot of the older languages are still known, and they have some of that language in them. That gives them their strength. This letter is Oric. Can you tell what it means?"

"Water," I say, surprising myself. "How did I-?"

"It's instinctual. It's so old and natural, I guess you'd say, that the language has become a part of us. Oric is a vowel, but the way most simple spells are set up, the vowels are the most important part. They're the power you're harnessing for the spells, and consonants are to control that that energy does what you want it to. Then there are the more complicated vowels, which do all kinds of weird stuff, but we don't have to worry about that yet."

"Oh. Okay," I say, trying to organize everything she's just said.

"Spells have different requirements – some you write out, others you say, and I hear that if you're strong enough you can just think some and they'll happen. Here's one of the most basic spells." She writes the symbol for water, then another letter on either side of it. The letters flash and vanish, and she cups her hands under where they'd been. A few drops of water fall into them.

"Wow, you made rain?" I say.

She laughs. "No, I just condensed some from the air. Your turn."

I take out the pencil and paper I've been using, since I haven't yet learned to write on the air, and I get the letters down as best as I can. _Focus your energy into them, _I tell myself as I curve my pencil around the word. _Each line has its own magic, pull them together into one spell. _

**Mine**

I've always been a little uncomfortable around customers who look at me as though I am a type of exotic food and they are trying to figure out the proper way to eat me.

"Greetings, Mrs. G'pgikonih!ohareq," Ayame says warmly to the large kinjali demon who has stepped through the door. "Here for your tri-weekly tea leaf reading, I presume?"

The demon rumbles an affirmative response.

"Marvellous! Right this way." The demon follows my boss behind a puce curtain.

The phone rings and I take it. I'm trying to give directions to our shop to a spoda demon who has somehow ended up on Jupiter while looking for us, when a shout in kinjali startles me. "Do you see the fast food place? Oh, right, I'm sorry, I forgot you don't have eyes, but can you smell it? Okay, now take a left – no, if you're at the Starbucks you've gone too far. One moment, please."

"I REFUSE TO HAVE MY READING DONE IN THE PRESENCE OF THIS UNHOLY ANIMAL!"

"Mrs. G'pgikonih!ohareq, my deepest apologies," Ayame's voice floats past the curtain. "I had no idea he was here, he wanders in sometimes – if it's any consolation, he says he's not a dog, but a human who was transformed into one."

"I KNOW A CANINE DEMON WHEN I SEE ONE!"

Shigure comes bolting from behind the curtains and looks up at me, head tilted, wagging his tail.

"I'm sorry," I say into the receiver, "I'll have to call you back."

Ayame and Mrs. Mrs. G'pgikonih!ohareq enter.

"A canine demon? " says Ayame. To the dog he says, "Is this true?"

"To a degree," says the dog in demon language.

"Shigure can talk?" I say. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"It is difficult to talk in this form," says Shigure. "It takes an effort get used to this differently-shaped mouth. At any rate, my problem still stands. I am unable to return to my human form."

"Perplexing," says Ayame, "but with this new piece of information, I am sure the issue shall be resolved! Where did this mysterious transformation take place?"

"The town of Coalbird," says Shigure.

Mrs. G'pgikonih!ohareq storms out the door, sending it rattling on its hinges.

"Wait, beloved customer!" Ayame calls after her, sticking his head out the window. "Next session shall be half price to make up for this inconvenience!"

"So why were you in Coalbird?" I ask Shigure.

"I heard an old friend was in the area, and I felt, in light of recent events, it was important to find him."

**Tohru**

"What should I do?" I call over the roar of the jets of water filling the living room.

"Just – wait! Don't do any more magic!" calls Rin from the kitchen, where she's trying to close up the burst pipes.

I pace the wet carpet, uncomfortable in my uselessness. The jets stop, but water is still puddling at an alarming rate. Rin shouts a spell and the house goes quiet. I peek into the kitchen, finding her drenched and breathing hard, the under-sink cupboard open, revealing pipes covered in thick green bands of light.

"That should hold it," she says, smiling tiredly. "You pulled the bolts out with your spell."

"S-sorry..."

"Not your fault. Definitely more impressive than most first tries at spells I've seen. So it looks like water's your element."

"Is that... good?"

"Yeah, it's fairly rare, actually. Most magic-users have one element they work best with – mine is electricity, Arisa's is fire." She gestures at the pipes. "This isn't my specialty, but these should last until I find out how to turn off the water supply." She reaches under the sink to secure a bit of tape that's started to stick up.

As soon as she touches it, the tape unravels, springing off as water shoots into the air more than ever before. Thick streams of it slam into the ceiling and walls, pouring down cold from all directions. "Go switch it off!" shouts Rin, her voice dissolving into gargles as water spurts in her face as she tries to reach the pipes.

"Are - are you oka-"

"Go! Aaaarrrggg...."

I run.

The basement is very dark. I cup some of the green fireflies in my hands for light, but tall shadows stretch down the stairs. I hear the bogwin clicking, but they don't come close and I press on.

There are a lot of switches in the basement. I switch off all the ones on a silver panel, but when nothing happens I realize they must all be for the already cut-off power. The guttural, metallic hiss of water through pipes echoes through the basement.

I move deeper into the room, darker and darker. I hear something different – closer than the water, and not the clicking of the bogwin, either. A sort of... slurping. Maybe the bogwin are trying a different tactic to scare me? No... I don't have any deep-seated fear of that sound, it's like someone messily eating noodles. At least, that's what I would have thought of it before. Now, in the dark, with no clear source, it makes me shiver.

I search around for the nearest portable object. There are a lot of the usual basement things here – cardboard boxes, a washer and dryer, shelves, tins of food. I pick up an empty rice tin the size of a watermelon; just in case I have to protect myself (although I'll probably run away if the source of the slurping turns out to be anything dangerous – which it won't be, it definitely won't).

My foot connects with something and I fall into a pile of cardboard boxes with a slight scream/gasp. The fireflies scatter into the air.

"Hm?"

A face looks up at me, a very pale one, and I realized his dark hair had been hiding his face while he bent over something on the floor. Two long, pointed teeth protrude past his lips, which are stained with a deep red liquid.

I scream again, thowing the tin in his general direction. It doesn't go anywhere near him, but instead hits the stack of objects lining the wall on the other side. He looks to see what has flown past him, just in time for the tower to tumble. A bright stack of children's toys fall on him, including a wooden baseball bat which hits his head. He slips to the ground, his eyes shut.

I pull myself out of the boxes, unable to stop shaking. What did I just do? He could be very hurt! And what would he have done to me if I hadn't done that?

He's a vampire. Demons are real, so why is it surprising that so are vampires? Or maybe he's a demon that looks like a vampire. I have to get Rin...

Behind the fallen boxes, I see the water heater, and I locate the switch nearby. The water stops and the basement plunges into silence, except for the persistent clicking, which now seems louder than ever.

"Rin!" I call as I sprint up the stairs.

"Great!" she calls back. "You got it! The water's off!" She grins as I enter the kitchen.

"Rin, there's something I think you should see." At the tone of my voice, her smile vanishes, and she nods, following me.

At the sight of the unconscious man, she lets out a long breath.

"What should we do?" I ask.

"I... I don't know," she says, her voice a tone I've never heard from her before. "We should get him to my house. There will be people there who can help us."

She casts a spell and the man lifts into the air as though lying on an invisible board and follows us back up the stairs. In the light, I see his fangs are gone, but the red substance is still there. If it's not blood, it looks very much like it.

"Wait here," says Rin, dashing out of the house and leaving the man on the living room couch. A few minutes later, I hear a car pull up and I look to see her driving it. She gets out, checks that the area is clear, and then whooshes the man into the back seat. "Come on," she says, and I get in the passenger seat.

"Where did you get this?" I ask as she starts driving. I notice there's no key in the ignition, but we're moving.

"Found it," she says, voice quiet.

I know she's stolen it. I nod once.

"It's okay," she says quickly. "It's an emergency. I'll put it back after."

After ten minutes that feel like an eternity of uncomfortable quiet, we pull up in front of Rin's house. The lights are on inside.

"I thought you lived alone," I say, confused.

A woman runs out of the house, waves at us. "Rin!" she calls, with a wide smile. Very long, wavy brown hair flies behind her as she moves. "So I finally see you again! Is this your friend?" She smiles at me, then looks into the back seat and abruptly becomes serious. "What happened?"

"Hi, Carmen," says Rin. "Welcome home."

**x**

The man rests on Rin's couch, a blanket draped over him and his head propped against a pillow. "Yes, he's definitely a vampire," said Carmen before she cleaned the blood off his face. "We'll let him explain himself when he wakes up."

Rin, who looks as dazed as I feel, sits at the kitchen table with me as Carmen insists on preparing us tea. The scent of spices fills the room.

"Mitch and Delisle are still sleeping," says Carmen quietly. "Jet lag. Jade's in his room if you want to say hi."

"Maybe later," mumbles Rin.

Carmen sets cups of tea in front of all of us and sits down. Up close, I can see the soft lines in her face, and I place her age at mid thirties. I thank her for the tea, and she smiles again and says it's no problem. The way she says it makes it sound like she's surprised to be thanked. She has a very warm, genuine smile. Her happiness radiates like warmth.

"You've probably gathered, but I'm Carmen," she says.

"Tohru. Pleased to meet you."

"So how long have you and Rin known each other?"

I think back. "Since I moved here," I say, "so about a month and a half."

"That explains why I've never met you," says Carmen. "Rin probably mentioned, the rest of us have been in Egypt the last three months. She chose to stay here for Tracking and to look after the house."

"Oh," I say politely, still trying to figure out the relationship between Rin and this woman. I would have guessed family, except this woman is Caucasian. But she lives with Rin, and so do Mitch and Jade and Delisle. So many names I've never heard Rin say.

"I think I am going to go see Jade," says Rin, rising to her feet, leaving her tea untouched.

"Okay. see you later," says Carmen. She gets no response.

Once Rin is out of the room, Carmen says to me, "She never mentioned me, did she?"

I shake my head, then worry that I'm going to get Rin in trouble. Before I can say something to excuse Rin from this, Carmen says, "Yeah, that's like her." She doesn't sound angry, but a bit sad. "Mitch and I are her parents. Jade's her brother, and Delisle is her sister."

Begining to piece things together, I say, "Is Rin adopted?" then feel embarrassed. That's probably not the type of thing you're supposed to ask.

"Yeah," says Carmen, still speaking quietly. "When she was five. Mitch and I were supposed to teach her how to control her powers – I used to be a Tracker, and he's a wizard – but she stayed with us for a year, and well, we felt like a family. So we made it official. Rin still kept her last name. I guess she wanted to hold on to part of her old life."

I can't think of anything to say. I drain my tea. I've realized how little I really knew about Rin's life until now. How much I probably still don't know.

As though reading my mind, Carmen says, "It's not you. She probably doesn't tell these things to anyone." She forced a laugh. "She'll probably mad at me now for telling you her secrets."

I nod. I don't know how to explain. How I thought maybe I could be more to Rin than an 'anyone' for her to keep secrets from.

So I stay quiet. Even if she doesn't see me the same way I see her, I don't want to risk my friendship with her in the hopes of something.... more? Different? I'm not sure. It's hard to think straight, and I probably should stop thinking about impossible, or at least unlikely, things.

**Rin**

Jade lies on top of his guitar-patterned bed sheets, headphones plugged into the amplifier connected to the guitar in his hands, which he is playing frantically, the notes metallic through the room.

"Hey," I say, sitting down in the chair at his desk.

He doesn't acknowledge me, and I wonder if he's heard me, and whether he can see me with so much of his long blond hair falling in front of his eyes. He finishes the song, letting the last chord ring through the room as the strings gradually cease to vibrate. "I'm still mad at you," he says, not looking at me or taking off his headphones.

"I figured. How was Egypt?"

"Interesting. Hot. You missed the pyramids."

"I'm sure Delisle will show me the pictures."

"Delisle sucks at photography. Most of her pictures are the inside of her pocket, or her hands, because she was holding the camera backwards or didn't turn it off."

I laugh.

"Besides," says Jade, clearly annoyed, "it's not like being there. You could have come, we're not that terrible to be around."

Jade's always had a way of being direct. Sometimes I think that's my own influence. It's probably a good thing, that he doesn't let me bullshit my way out of things, but it would be nice to be able to get away with stuff sometimes.

"I don't think you're awful," I say, "I just-"

"Thought it would be more fun to spend three months by yourself?"

"I had to do Tracking."

"You could have got someone to substitute for you. What about Arisa?"

"I... fine. There were some things I had to figure out, okay Jade? And I thought it would be easier to do on my own."

"Did you figure them out?"

"I'm not sure."

"Then you didn't," says Jade. "Real answers are clear."

"Not always."

"Yes they are."

There's really no use arguing with an eleven-year-old. "Did you write any new songs in Egypt?" I ask.

"Hundreds." He says it in that fake-casual way of someone who's trying not to brag about accomplishing something clearly amazing, yet wants to be recognized for it.

"Good job," I say.

"Thanks."

"Can I hear one?"

"Maybe later." He sets the guitar in its stand. "I think I'm gonna go sleep. Can you turn off the light?"

"Sure." I flick off the switch on my way to the door.

"Hey Rin?"

"Yeah?"

"That thing you were wondering about –" Jade yawns – "I hope you find out the answer."

"Thanks. Good night."

**Hatori**

I am in a city and the buildings keep getting higher, stretching out of the ground, up until they blot out the sky. The world swirls darkly, and I realize I am indoors. The walls and ceiling are black. There are coloured balloons, a lot of people talking. I think I knew them at one point, but now I don't want to talk to any of them.

There's a string quartet playing. She's got the violin, her eyes closed, her hands making the elegant movements across the strings, the sound perfect. Her hair is tied back in a bun, a few escaped strands swaying with her movements. She plays so passionately. The sounds she creates are like their own world, a landscape of notes, a field of sound. They are almost as beautiful as her.

She doesn't see me. I try to get close to her, but suddenly everyone is blocking my way. Old friends and aquaintences trying to talk to me, but I can't make out the words coming out of their mouths. There is all too much sound, and suddenly I can't hear her playing. Only chaos. I look up and she's gone. The faces begin to fold like origami, becoming tiny points of colour. They become grains of sand. The room becomes an ocean at night, and the lights are pure white stars. And I see her again.

She is walking on the beach, in front of the glittering black water, and she smiles and waves at me. She motions for me to follow and then takes off running, into the water. I chase, but I'm too slow. Her head disappears beneath the waves. I lose her.

I am in an elevator and something snaps. Plummet. People around me are screaming. It's pitch black. A thud as the ground rises up to meet us. Pain. The sounds of lives extinguishing. But I'm still here. The metallic tang of blood fills the air.

"Mom! I think he's waking up!"


End file.
